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TREMAIN E.
VOL. II.
. , .a j .
.
TREMAINE,
OR THE
MAN OF REFINEMENT.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1825 .
LONDON :
PRINTED BY B. CLARKE, WELL STREET.
TREMAINE,
OR THE
MAN OF REFINEMENT.
CHAP. I.
PERSUASION.
“ For when a world of men
“ Could not prevail with all their oratory,
“ Yet hath a woman’s kindness overruled.
SHAKSPEARE.
Returned home, Woodington never appeared
so lonely in the eyes of Tremaine. He passed an
uneasy evening, and an uneasy morning the next
day : could settle to nothing, and went to his
library as he generally did, to find comfort, and
as he often did, not knowing where to look
for it.
His chair, which was what the upholsterers call
an Indulgent (a great deal too indulgent for
study), an open Cicero, an open Horace, and an
VOL. II. B
2
TREMAINE.
Open Shaftsbury, seemed to invite him to proceed
with them, where he left off; — but he did not
know where he left off, and they never had so few
charms.
“ No,” said he, 66 I’ll none of ye — I’ll to the
Forest of Ardennes taking up a volume of
Shakspeare ; cc I’ll to the garden, to the woods —
to the seat that looks on the most beautiful spot
in England !”
He meant a bench which he had lately fixed
at the end of the terrace, commanding the best
view of Evelyn Hall.
As he paced back through the rooms, Mary,
and all that Mary, and even that old Vellum had
said in the preceding morning, revived in his
memory.
u I agree,” said he, (for why should I deny
it) that Belmont was a melancholy place; and
that I was dying there of hyp ! — I agree too,
how fine it would be, if such a lady were at
Woodington; for — Woodington wants a mis-
tress. Alas ! I agree too,’’ looking at himself in
a pier glass, as he passed it, “ if I was not so old
and so solemn ! — As to the age,” he went on, still
looking at himself, u it is not so very great ! I am
by no means so old as her father ! and as to the
solemnity — to be sure she has many notions that
must change — and they will change,” said he,
flinging out of doors, and hastening to the end
of the terrace.
TREMAINE.
3
“ I will here,” said lie, sitting down, u enjoy
all those charms of a reverie, which that witch de-
scribed,” — and he closed his eyes, only to open
them now and then upon the chimnies of Evelyn.
But alas ! a reverie, is not to be purchased, nor
controlled, nor commanded; — neither rank, nor
riches, nor shining before men, nor wisdom in
one’s generation, nor in one’s own eyes, nor
wisdom of any sort, can bind this wayward sprite,
who comes and goes at his pleasure, and flits be-
fore the charmed sense of a poor student, build-
ing his chateau en Espagne, fifty to one more
readily than he will oblige the King of Spain him-
self. In this he is like his first cousin, Sleep, who
often rather lies in smoky cribs,
“ Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
“ Under the canopies of costly state,
tc And lulled with sounds of sweetest melody.”
It is quite certain that Mr. Tremaine, great as
he was, and using all u means and appliances to
boot,” could not catch the reverie he sighed for,
so as to hold it for a moment.
He had risen for the fourth time, from the
bench he was sitting on, (which he said was a
very uneasy bench) before he entirely gave the
matter up.
“ I know not why,” said he — ct but the plank in
the scarlet-bean arbour was pleasanter than this.”
He looked at it again, examined its con
b 2
4
TREMAINE.
struction, quarrelled with his carpenter, said he
would have a new one, and was actually return-
ing to the house to give orders, when, to his
utter astonishment, (though perhaps nothing in
the world could be less astonishing) he saw the
Doctor and his daughter standing before him.
To say he reddened, or looked foolish, or hesi-
tated when he paid his compliments, would be
to shock the good breeding of which he was
master ; — but as certain it was, that he did not
pay those compliments with his usual ease.
u I fear we break in upon your privacy,” said
Evelyn.
u At least most agreeably,” replied he.
“We presumed,” observed Miss Evelyn,
“ upon the permission of Monsieur Dupuis, who,
when he went one way to seek you, gave us
leave to go another. We asked which way you
went, to which we had the satisfactory answer,
“ he no know himself! — ”
“ From all which we suspected,” said Evelyn,
looking at his book, “ that you were, as we find
you, enacting the part of Master Touchstone, in
the Forest of Ardennes.”
“ I am much obliged to you for making me a
clown, when at least I fancied myself a duke,”
said Tremaine.
“ The resemblance, pardon me, is perhaps
nearer than you are aware of ; — nay, don’t be
angry, for it was Georgy there first pointed it out.”
TREMAINE. 5
Me ! Oh papa! — sure you — indeed Mr.
Tremaine — ”
“ I have no doubt the resemblance is very just,”
said Tremaine, with rather more politeness in
his manner than Georgina was disposed to
like.
u S^avoir,” said Evelyn ; and he began to
read. “ And how like you this shepherd’s life,
66 Master Touchstone? Truly shepherd, in re-
c: spect to itself it is a good life ; but in respect
ec that it is a shepherd’s life, it is naught. In
“ respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but
“ in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life.
ct Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth
u me well ; but in respect it is not in court, it is
“ tedious. Hast any philosophy in the shep-
<c herd ? —
£C And all this is fastened upon me by Miss
Evelyn! and not Miss Evelyn’s father!” ob-
served Tremaine.
u Perhaps it lay between us both,” cried the
Doctor ; u but you will at least allow that the
portrait is a very good portrait.”
Now Tremaine allowed no such thing, so to
turn the conversation, he asked what had brought
him the honour of their company so soon.
“ Can all that business which employs you so
much, be finished so soon in a morning ?”
“ We are going to Lord Bellenden’s,” replied
Evelyn, which is fifteen miles ; he dines early, to
6
TREMAINE.
let people get home again, and we want you to
go too.”
ce I am not invited,” returned Tremaine.
u ’Tis a public day,” said Evelyn.
a And would you have me, on that account
attend it! — excuse me my good friend; you
little know me — I consider a public day as little
less than an insult ! — Who is this Lord Bellenden,
that ”
u Lord Bellenden,” said Evelyn, stopping him,
a is a very worthy nobleman, of immense fortune,
and therefore of influence ; placed by the king
at the head of the Riding ; living, but not shut-
ting himself up, upon his estate.”
66 I am going to be schooled I see,” cried
Tremaine — u pray spare me.”
u I will,” answered the Doctor , ce provided you
will allow there is neither harm nor insult in such
a man opening his house to all his neighbours,
and telling them he has done so.”
(C What, in the newspapers !” cried Tremaine.
(e No ! I am not proud .”
“Not in the least,” retorted the Doctor, 6t those
who ever said so wronged you unmercifully.”
“ I am however, I hope, above being adver-
tised for as a guest,” said his friend. “ Let us
see ! — “ There will be public days at Bellenden
“ House every Thursday, for the next month.”
So says the paragraph, which, being inter-
preted, means, that my Lord Bellenden, being
TREMAINE.
7
very lonely, and not knowing what to do with
himself in his fine house, is very willing to be
diverted by any one who will take the trouble to
come twenty or thirty miles to divert him.”
" You forget,” said Evelyn, u that he diverts,
as well as is diverted ; and that he is as much
honoured as he honours. So much for pride —
Au reste, neighbours and families who see one
another seldom, have a pleasant opportunity of
meeting under the auspices of a person of rank,
power, and good breeding; and all that promotes
good neighbourhood, cannot but be good in
itself.”
u Yes ! but to be advertised for !”
Ci Well, are you not advertised for in Town ?”
“ As how ?”
a Whenever my lady A — , or my lady B — ,
sends a small card to your house, not treating
you with the least ceremony of compliment, not
even honouring you with an invitation, but mere-
ly apprising you, (gracious intimation !) that she
is at home! — And yet you go for all that !”
u That is not in the papers,” answered Tre-
maine.
u It is not always out of them,” said Evelyn :
cc at least I have sometimes observed with a pre-
face of 66 we are authorised to say lady A’s as-
sembly is put off, or lady B’s is put on; or that
if it rains the Duke of D — ’s breakfast will not
take place at the C — Villa.” — Now what is this
8
TREMAINE*
but advertising in the papers, or what does it
want but a u Whereas,” in large letters, to give
it a place in the hue and cry itself?” —
u You may overpower, but you cannot con-
vince me,” answered Tremaine, in a tone which
shewed that though he might not be convinced,
he was at least much shaken. 66 Yet how can I
make you believe I am not proud ?”
u By going,” said Georgina, with a look which
did more than all her father’s argument ; “ By
going, for it is quite a curricle day ”
cc But I have no curricle,” replied Tremaine,
u and if I had, fifteen miles driving in such heat,
would be insupportable.”
u Your barouche then,” said Georgina, with
a smile there was no withstanding.
“ You drive me out of all my principles,”
exclaimed the proud man ; at the same time
bending towards the house to order the barouche.
As it was getting ready, <c you will give us
places I suppose, and I shall at least gain by it,”
said Evelyn.
e( No you won’t, for we will have no argu-
ments,” said Tremaine, u not one the whole
way.”
u I did not mean that,” answered Evelyn ;
66 I was only consulting my avarice in thinking
what wear and tear I should spare in my post-
chaise, and how much flesh I should not have to
replace on my two fat blacks, and still fatter
Solomon.”
TREMAINE.
9
As he said this, the aforesaid equipage seeing
sts master, drove up to the door, and Tremaine
criticising their sleek and unwieldy sides, with
their long tails buckled up, and a postillion of
ponderous dimensions, observed that, to talk a
little Irish, the Doctor might probably gain a
loss, for they were all in a fair way of dying of
fat already. “ I observe,” said he, as Evelyn
ordered them home again, <e you have the old
fashion of long tails.”
66 I wish it were a new fashion,” answered the
Doctor.
“ It is at least very cumbersome ; and has a
heavy, inelegant air,” remarked the host.
cc As for the air, doctors differ,” said Evelyn,
<c and Doctor Georgy there, says she prefers it as
a mere picture ; — but as to its cumbersomeness,
I asked the poor brutes themselves one day, and
they told me it was no such thing.”
tc This was among the Hounyhymes I suppose,”
said Tremaine.
(i It was at a post-house in Flanders,” answer-
ed the Doctor.
“ A post-house in Flanders ! pray explain.”
“ Why I saw above twenty of these noble
creatures, who having it in their power to dash
our brains out whenever they please, condescend
to be our friends, and carry our burthens for
us, for which they are most scurvily treated in
return.”
b 5
10
TREMAINE.
u Witness,” said Tremaine, pointing to four
shining healthy bays, that were trotting round
with his barouche.
u They would thank you more for their tails,”
observed Evelyn, u than for all the pains you
bestow upon their skins.”
“ Well, but your post-house ?”
“ It was only,” said Evelyn, “ that there I
vowed a vow, which I have kept ever since,
never to dock a horse’s tail. The Flemings
seldom do, and I saw most of the fine animals
I have mentioned, completely protected against
their natural enemies the flies, one hot day, by
the use of this light switch, which you suppose
so cumbersome ; while one or two, whose masters
being men of taste, had robbed them of this
defence, were eaten absolutely raw for want of
it. I never felt more indignant at the cruel
tyranny of human, over brute nature, and hence
my old fashion,” concluded the Doctor.
This man gathers a lesson from the most
trivial circumstance, said Tremaine to himself :
I might have gone into a post-house in Flanders
ten thousand times, without being the wiser or
the better for it. “ But have you ever settled
why in creation there should be natural ene-
mies ?” continued Tremaine aloud.
(C That,” replied Evelyn, u would carry us
farther than would be quite convenient at a hall
door, and only waiting for a young lady’s band-
box.”
TREMAINE.
n
In truth this conversation passed while Geor-
gina was ordering some articles of dress, to be
transposed from her own post-chaise to Tre-
maine’s barouche.
ci I would rather ask however,” added the
Doctor, u how we come to have so many friends
and allies— but I will put it off till my next
sermon,” concluded he. Then observing his
daughter was ready, Tremaine handed her into
the carriage, — the outriders were mounted, — the
day was fine, and away they flew.
CHAP. II.
LANDSCAPE GARDENING.
If to do, were as easy as to know what were good to do,
“ chapels had been churches, and poor mens’ cottages prince’s
“ palaces.” shakspeare.
“ By the way,” said Tremaine as they drove
over the little bridge and up the opposite hill,
“ I am glad we are together here, for I want to
remove those cottages which offend the eye terribly
at Woodington, and I mean to replace them with
a temple, as I did at Belmont, which I am flat-
tered by being told is a great improvement.”
12
TREMAINE.
\
u Are you resolved,” said Evelyn, u or do you
really do us the honour to ask an opinion ?”
<c Oh ! an opinion by all means. Indeed I
have long been wishing to consult Miss Evelyn
about it, and even to ask her for a design.”
cc She won’t give you one,” answered the
Doctor; 66 or if she is so disposed, I won’t let
her ”
cc Rather despotic that; but you Tories . . . .”
u Nay, ask her herself,” returned Evelyn, u I
think I am pretty safe.”
u Papa knows that I am a friend to cottages,
and not much to temples,” said Georgina; “ yet
I own a temple rising amid woods, is often a fine
thing.”
Tremaine sparkled as she said this.
u Though it may be a fine thing, the worst of
it is,” cried Evelyn, u that it is always a useless
one.”
c( Yet a church,” replied Tremaine ......
<c Is a church,” exclaimed Evelyn, u and there-
fore I presume not useless. If you could shew
me what a temple is for, being a Pagan thing, in
a Christian country, you should be welcome to
build as many as you pleased, provided you did
not destroy, as well as build, by depopulating
cottages, the most pleasing things on a man’s
estate.”
66 I should not have expected this from you,
who have so classical a taste,” replied Tremaine:
TREMAINE.
13
“ For me, I have still warmth enough left to be
able to transport myself to Greece or Italy, and
enjoy an elegant fiction, though I know it to be
such. 1 ’
“ If your temple,” said Evelyn, “ has ever
really been dedicated to the Gods, like those we
have actually seen on the consecrated soils you
have mentioned, why I am warm enough too, and
though a Protestant parson, could for a few
moments almost believe myself a Grecian, and
worship Jupiter; but if you wish only to make
believe, as the children say, and I find your
temple a mere wood house, or haunted by a dirty
gamekeeper, instead of fawns and satyrs, or the
chaste Diana — incredulus odi.”
“ What if we keep out the keeper, and have no
wood but an elegant seat: will you not let us
deify a few virtues,” questioned Tremaine, “ and
soothe the fancy while we give the body repose?
You let us devour these deities in Virgil and Ovid,
and even in Horace.”
“ They are there genuine, and were the creed
of the writers,” replied Evelyn; “and I can always
so far do justice to my author, as to put myself in
his situation, and imagine myself for the time,
with the same feelings which I know influenced
him. But I could no more enjoy a modern British
author, who talked of Ceres and Bacchus, or even
Venus and Cupid, as existing in England, than I
could your temple, which you tell me you have
TREMAINE.
14
dedicated to Flora, or Diana, names to which pro-
bably the dogs who accompany me, answer at the
moment I am worshipping.”
Georgina laughed at this turn, but could not
help saying, 6i Nay, I am now for Mr. Tremaine,
for very often, when my flower garden has looked
particularly beautiful, I have thought a little
temple of Flora for a seat, would not only be
pretty, but appropriate.”
u I dare say,” cried Evelyn, c{ and by the same
rule whenever you have thought yourself particu-
larly handsome, you have wished for a temple of
Beauty, and to be called Venus.”
“ That’s very severe,” said Georgina.
u This severity to your fancy,” observed Tre-
maine, u must deprive it of half its pleasures, and
for once you are not supported. Do not all poets,
modern as well as ancient, invoke the muses? —
and do not all readers, for the moment, believe in
them ? Milton even, bursting as he is with the
divine things of his own religion, is nevertheless
big with the old mythology, and invokes his
heavenly muse, and his Urania.”
“ You forget,” said Evelyn, with some eager-
ness, “ that his heavenly muse is not one of the
nine, but some being (imaginary I own, but of
higher origin than Pagan,) no less as he supposes
than the instrument of communication between
the true God, and Moses or David, and the
Prophets.”
TREMAINE.
15
At this Evelyn broke out with
“ Sing heavenly muse, that on the secret tops
“ Of Horeb or of Sinia, didst inspire
“ That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed
“ In the beginning, how the heaven and earth
(t Rose out of chaos : ”
(( Or if Sion hill
“ Delight thee more, and Siloa’s brook that flow’d
t( Fast by the oracle of God, I tlience
“ Invoke thy aid to my adventrous song,
“ That with no middle flight intends to soar
“ Above the Aonian mount !” (a)
Evelyn was particularly energetic when any
thing drawn from his religion, whether in prose
or verse, inspired him : and the tone with which
he repeated these fine lines, filled Tremaine him-
self with awe, — his daughter with awe and love
conjoined.
“As for your Urania,” continued he, “ to be
sure she was one of the nine, and not the meanest
though she ranked the last. But if I remember
the passage, Milton himself says he will have
nothing to do with her, as a heathen : for after-
wards he sings,
“ The meaning not the name I call : for those
“ Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top
“ Of old Olympus dwell’st, but heavenly born
ii Before the hills appeared.” ( b.)
66 At the same time I cannot deny,” added the
upright Doctor, recollecting himself, “ that as far
(a) Paradise lost, b. 1. v. 6.
(b.) Paradise Lost, b. 7. v. 5.
16
TREMAINE.
as your argument goes, you have abundant proof,
both from Milton and all other modern classics,
that they used the antient mythology as familiarly
almost as if they actually believed in it.”
a So much the better for my temple,” said
Tremaine, “ which now that Miss Evelyn is
against you, I trust you will permit. What think
you of this inscription, from a modem poet I
allow, but which beautifully recalls ancient
Greece : and as it will be in the retired part of
the wood, when those cottages we past are de-
stroyed, I trust it will be appropriate.”
Here he took from his pocket-book an extract
from that fine ode of Gray, and shewed to Evelyn:
“ Et pedes quo me rapiunt, in omni
“ Colle Parnassum, videor videre,
“ Fertilem sylvae, gelidamq : in omni
Fonte Aganippen
<f Risit et Ver me, facilesque Nymphae
“ Nare captantum, me ineleganti
“ Mane, quicquid de violis eundo
Surripit aura,” (a)
C£ You forget,” said Georgina, looking over her
father’s shoulder, (C I am not blue, and country
gentlewomen have at least the same right to a
translation as country gentlemen.”
Tremaine apologizing, translated for her, and
(a) Where’er my feet carry me, in every hill I seem to view the
woody Parnassus — in every fountain, the cool Aganippe. — The
spring also and the good natured Nymphs smile to see me at
early morn, sucking the perfume of the gale that has just past
over a bed of violets.
TREMAINE,
17
observed that he scarcely ever took an evening or
morning walk, in any retired scene, without feel-
ing the same sentiment, and thinking he beheld
P arnassus, and the good-natured Nymphs. u But
the walk,” added he, 66 must be retired, for if a
cottage or clown come in the way, the charm is
dissolved.”
u Unless you could turn the clown into a Satyr,”
said Evelyn. u But pray how long is it since you
have enjoyed this feeling of yours ? never I’ll
answer for it since you became a man of refine-
ment, rose at ten o’clock, and dined at eight : and
as to the faciles Nymphce , I am sure they would
not let you destroy a whole village, and send a
flock of fine brown boys and girls to grow white
and puling in a manufactory ! For your inscrip-
tion therefore, although I have often admired it,
as purely Horatian, yet if it make you do this,
I’ll none o’nt.”
w Will you give me another ?” said Tremaine.
u Willingly,” answered Evelyn, u and one
which, though less poetic, my practical philosophy
is more fond of. In fact, I have just written it
myself on a tablet over a seat, not in a heathen
temple in the woods, but in my summer-house at
the end of the green walk in the garden.
“ Servare modum, finemque tueri,
t( Naturamque sequi” —
“ It will at least keep you from destroying
18
TREMAINE.
your cottages, which, unless they offend the sense,
or are inconveniently near your domicile, (neither
of which faults, as far as I observed, belong to
those you have quarrelled with,) ought, I hold,
to be sacred — nay I will venture to say, as a
matter of taste (which is always one of the most
rational things in the world, however it may be
abused), they will be better objects than the
finest buildings you could erect in their place.”
66 Well,” replied Tremaine, “ however beautiful
all this may be in theory, and however we may
talk of the human face divine, I cannot help
thinking that the face of a dirty cottager is a very
dirty thing ; and though Phyllis, and Amaryllis
are charming, Sal and Bet offend me. You
yourself my good friend, do not delight in nature
so much as to be fond of a dunghill, yet a dung-
hill is a very natural object.”
As Georgina laughed at this sally, it quite
fortified Tremaine against any thing he might
expect from the Doctor’s reply, who however
very calmly proceeded : “ I have said I so far
agree with you, that if your cottages offend the
sense, or interfere with your comforts, (which I
am not so bigoted to practical philosophy as to
deny they may do,) I would remove them ; but
those we looked at, which are at least a quarter
of a mile off any part of the house, cannot inter-
fere with you ; and if you despise their inhabit-
ants merely as vulgar beings, inferior to yourself,
TREMAINE.
19
excuse me if I assume tlie privilege of my cloth
so far as to say, this is all unwarrantable. The
creatures you wish to avoid and shut out, are all
of them men like yourself : not so learned : not
so refined : but many of them worthy, some of
them, in their way at least, as wise ; and all of
them unsophisticated. But you are shocked with
their want of polish forsooth, and will not let
them come u within the wind and your nobility.’’
Yet I question if the sights for which you would
shut out their cottages ; nay, if many of the
people whom you would admit into your presence
in preference to them, are not (I will not say less
intrinsically worthy, but) less capable of affording
food for observation, and therefore for the mind,
and therefore for pleasure !”
66 I should be glad to hear your philosophy
make all this out,” said Tremaine, “ and prove
that conversing with a cobler who stitches all day
in a stall, is better than with a man of education ;
or how the sight of that dirty stall, and perhaps a
dirtier wife and children, can dispute it, as a
matter of taste, with a Greek temple, an elegant
lawn, or sheep as white as snow.”
6C Neither the stall, nor the wife need neces-
sarily be dirty,” answered Evelyn, u therefore tell
me, are the inhabitants of those eight or ten
thatched roofs, — which look at this distance so
neat, and are scattered so prettily under the
shelter of your woods, that to my eyes they quite
TREMAINE.
SO
enliven and beautify the scene, are they the dirty
and disgusting creatures you have supposed ?
Because if so, and you cannot change them for
cleaner people, I give the matter up.”
Tremaine recollected that in truth they were
his own best labourers, many of whom had
married with the maids of his family, and were in
reality particularly neat in their persons, and
orderly in conduct.
“ Then do not part with them,” said Evelyn,
cc for without deciding between an elegant temple,
and a picturesque cottage, which belongs to the
mere judgment of the eye, I am not to tell you
that taste by no means depends upon the eye
alone, but upon the associations belonging to the
individual scene. In this view, all that connects
us with our species, without bringing any thing
disgusting into view, must have the advantage.
Certainly it is better than any thing merely
neutral as to association, though very pretty to
the eye. Were your temple the real temple of
Jupiter, much indeed might be said; but its
altar never smokes, your lawn is not peopled, and
your sheep are not men.”
Georgina upon being asked, professed the most
perfect acquiescence in this opinion, and some
very uneven road here diverted the discourse, not
quite unseasonably for the man of refinement,
who in truth felt a little pushed for argument in
favour of making a desert for supposed sylvan
TREMAINE.
2!
deities, instead of the human cheerfulness that at
present enlivened his grounds.
It is true the cheerfulness was not very polished,
nor very well regulated, particularly among the
younger inhabitants, who gave vent to their
spirits in all the exuberance in which they enjoy-
ed them. The whole hamlet indeed had little
more than these t4 good spirits to feed and clothe
them yet they flourished well enough to pass
over the rough road of life, with an alacrity and
freedom from care, to which their betters (who
yet would not exchange lots with them,) were
often strangers.
u My dear Sir,” said Evelyn, u keep these
people by all means ; foster and make them your
friends, as well as your dependants. We are
none of us so high, particularly as life shortens,
and the world itself becomes lonely, as not to be
sometimes in a situation to be the better for the
sight of even our inferior fellow creatures. Think
twice therefore before you cast them from you,
you may want them before you are aware of it.”
There was a pause for some time, before Tre-
maine was about to reply, when seeing Georgina
disposed to speak, yet rummaging a large work-
bag, which had been transposed from her father’s
post-chaise to the barouche, he stopt, and respect-
fully asked what she was going to observe ?
“ Nothing of myself,” she said, “ but I thought
I remembered a passage, or at least where to find
f
22
TREMAINE,
it, in Scot’s new work, which we put up for our
journey to-day, which you will, perhaps, not only
admire, but think applicable to your subject.”
Tremaine took the book from her pretty fingers,
and read —
“ Yes ! ’twas sublime, but sad. The loneliness
“ Loaded thy heart, the desert tir’d thine eye ;
‘ c And strange and awful fears began to press
“ Thy bosom with a stern solemnity
“ Then hast thou wish’d some woodman’s cottage nigh,
“ Something that shew’d of life, though low and mean;
“ Glad sight ! its curling wreath of smoke to spy —
“ Glad sound its cock’s blithe carol would have been,
“ Or children whooping wild, beneath the willow’s green 1”
Tremaine pondered these lines, which sprang
from a soul as philosophic as poetical, which could
deeply observe human nature, and knew sweetly
how to describe what it had observed.
6e I see it will not do,” said he, gracefully yield-
ing the point; and with an expression far from
displeasing to Georgina, as he looked first towards
the cottages, and then at her, he added, “ if Scot
and Georgina are against me, I must needs be
wrong.”
The idea of the temple was given up.
TREMAINE.
23
CHAP. III.
A PORTRAIT.
“ I am combined by a sacred vow.”
SHAKSPEARE.
It is not above two miles from Bellenden
House, and as the road turns suddenly to the left,
branching off from the turnpike towards the outer
gates of the park, that one of those substantial
sumtner-houses, which our ancestors were so fond
of building sixty or seventy years ago, filled up
the exact corner of the two roads, so that a win-
dow to the south, and another to the west, com-
manded, to a dead certainty, every man, woman,
child, horse, higgler’s cart, stage, or gentleman’s
coach, that proceeded from London to York, or
from York to London, or from any part of that
line to the seat of the Earl of Bellenden.
This summer-house was, in fact, a very fine
thing in its time, and was built by old Sir Hilde-
brand Homestead, with a profusion of red brick,
white stone copings, white pillasters, and carved
cornices : and here of a summer evening, Sir
Hildebrand used always to cool himself with a
pipe. His son, who forty years before the time
24
TREMAINE.
we speak of, and indeed for some years after-
wards, was called young Sir Hildebrand, suc-
ceeded to the estate and the summer-house at
the same time, and though he left off smoaking,
as smoaking went out of fashion, yet he used the
summer-house as much as his father.
This gentleman was remarkable for the most
insatiable curiosity. Not a tale or an anecdote ;
not a piarriage, a courtship, or bastardy ; not a
sale or mortgage of an estate ; not a trial in civil
court or crown court ; not a dinner, or even
what was eaten for dinner, within fifty miles, I
might almost add within fifty years of him, but
he knew in all the exactness of verity, and could
relate, with all its various readings, as he had it
from different relators. And yet for the last
five and thirty years he had never stirred from
his own gate. His powers both of talking and
of listening were inexhaustible, and, as we may
suppose, were well exercised by the idle gossiping
people in the neighbourhood, and by almost all
travellers that came near the summer-house, at
one or other window of which he was to be found
planted generally from breakfast till dinner, —
which was still always at Iwo o’clock ; and from
dinner, till the evening closed in, when, in summer
he always retired to bed.
The only inconvenience attending this pleasure
was, that as talking is a thirsty employment, it
occasioned, among the lower orders especially,
TREMAINE.
25
(who were always observed to be most kind in
their communications,) a considerable tax upon
his ale and beer. This however was not minded
by Mr. Jerome the butler, and to do him justice,
not much more, by the Baronet himself.
It may be thought perhaps that he had a
vacant mind, or broken down body, and that this
was his mode of amusing them. — But no ! he had
considerable reading, had studied, and seen the
world when young, and had even been elected a
Bencher of one of the Inns of court ; while on
the other hand, he had never known an hours
illness from his birth, to this time, when in his
seventy-sixth year, he was still hale, hearty, and
curious.
Why he had retired so early, or why at all,
except because it was his humour, and that an
Englishman, especially if rich, has a right to his
humour, never could be exactly ascertained. It
was said indeed in the neighbourhood, that an
early disappointment with a lady who had made
another choice, (in vulgar language jilted him,)
first drove him from London, when for a long time
he let his beard grow, and lived in his night-cap,
with no companions but his books and servants,
the latter of whom were all of the male kind : —
for such for many years was his resentment
against the sex, that not a female was admitted
into his household. This however went off, and it
was supposed that he might have returned to the
VOL. II. c
26
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world, and even married, had he not, as was also
supposed, bound himself by a vow never to stir from
his own house ; while his shyness towards ladies of
his own rank, was never to be conquered. It was
indeed confidently reported that in his sixty-fifth
year, he had made an offer to his cook maid, who
taking him for a conjuror, from his fondness for
mathematical instruments, was afraid to accept
him. But this was never made out; and he
continued heaping riches upon riches, and be-
came more and more insatiable after the news, or
rather the tattle of the world, though fast hasten-
ing to where both riches and news are altogether
useless.
It was only however in his latter years that
any thing like avarice got hold of him, and even
now, his heart would often open, and several
generous things were recorded of him. He accu-
mulated indeed, rather because he could not
help it, than because he was any way naturally
covetous.
It may be supposed that a public dinner at a
great man’s, and that so close to him, was an
occasion too agreeable to his temper to be neg-
lected. It was in fact, a sort of gala ; an event
to interest both himself and his whole house ;
who accordingly, on these occasions generally
assembled upon the lawn before his door, for
some time before my lord’s hour of dining, or
the first carriage had given the signal that the
TREMAINE.
27
company had begun to assemble. On these
occasions too, for such was the humour, he
thought to give additional importance to the day,
by assuming a sort of costume, only known at
these times ; thus, for the last twenty years, he
had appeared in a white, or rather stone coloured
coat, with a pink silk lining, his grey curls were
taken out of rollers, and a little bag placed on his
short queu, which upon the whole, gave him an air
and manner, by no means other than that of a
gentleman.
On these days the summer-house was aban-
doned, and he was generally seen attended by
his butler, leaning over the gate that opened into
the road, in order the better to converse with, or
receive the compliments of such friends as were
still left him, and who usually made a point of
stopping for a few moments to shew that they
were alive, and to ascertain that he was so too ;
a ceremony not at all less necessary in their
opinion, from its being utterly unknown to whom
he meant to leave his fortune.
Such conferences, particularly if there was
any thing beyond the very commonest topics to
communicate, rendered these days the happiest
in the old man’s life.
This gentleman was known to Dr. Evelyn,
who never came near his gate without making
him happy, as Sir Hildebrand said, by telling
him where he had been, and where he was
28
TREMAINE.
going ; and having some time before acquainted
him with Tremaine’s arrival, and seclusion at
Woodington, so as to excite much of his curi-
osity, he knew he could not do him a greater
benefit than by bringing about a visit, if visit it
could be called. For Sir Hildebrand never
suffered his guests, particularly if there were
ladies among them, to proceed farther than the
lawn, or at most, into the summer-house.
During the mile or two before they came to
Homestead Hall, Evelyn had informed Tremaine
of all these particulars, of which he had before
been utterly ignorant ; 66 and if you have a mind
to make a harmless old man very happy,” said
Evelyn , cc you will give him a call.”
u Good Heavens! for what !” exclaimed Tre-
maine : u are we not going to be overwhelmed
enough, at a great country dinner, without the
addition of an old quiz, who from your account,
can scarcely, even from his age, derive any thing
like respectability.”
ce Odd fish you know, are my game,*’ replied
Evelyn.
iC But not mine,” said Tremaine: “ I am quite
satisfied with your history, and have no curiosity
to see the subject of it.”
66 I believe,” retorted Evelyn, u you would be
satisfied with Buffon’s history of the whale, and
not go to see one cut up, if it were even to b6
thrown on the shores of the Humber.”
TREMAINE!.
29
u Not if it smelt like its own Greenlanders,”
answered Tremaine.
a Well, but Sir Hildebrand is a subject for a
philosopher, and you are a philosopher : he
supplies food to the mind,” said Evelyn.
“ As much as your whale, to the body,” re-
joined Tremaine ; u and when you eat a bit of
whale, I’ll study Sir Hildebrand. — Pray, — I
beseech you, do not let us stop ; — it will be an
odious waste of time.”
“ I have no doubt you’ll employ it better with
Dr. Juniper or Sir Marmaduke Crabtree at
Bellenden House, for the half hour we have to
spare,” remarked Evelyn.
“ Horrible alternative,” answered Tremaine —
and at that moment Georgina saying she should
like to see one, of whose oddity she had heard so
much, he instantly gave way, and with silent, but
not inexpressive politeness, ordered the postillions
to stop at Homestead gate.
“ But will he admit a lady ?” said Georgina.
u Not without leave first asked and obtained,”
replied her father.
By this time, the carriage drew up, and Sir
Hildebrand, who was leaning over the gate,
greeted them with a bow of the last century.
He was tall and spare, by no means of vulgar
appearance, and there was still a quick glancing
eye, which looked as if it had enjoyed better
times.
c 3
30
TREMAINE.
This man may be odd, but he is not a quiz,
said Georgina to herself.
Though Georgina was thus amicably disposed,
he shrunk back at the sight of her, and red-
dening, and at the same time with a constrained
sort of smile, was bowing them away, when
Evelyn said — C( I am come to present my neigh-
bour Mr. Tremaine, and my Daughter Miss
Evelyn to you, Sir Hildebrand.”
A slight bow of acquiescence^, was all his
shyness permitted, for in truth his eye was caught
by Tremaine’s gay equipage.
tc I thought it was not yours,” said he to
Evelyn ; — u I think I never saw four such beau-
tiful bays ; — so well matched, so full of blood-
The harness too ! and the whole together, beat
Lord Bute’s when he first went to court on the
Accession.
“ An odd reception this,” said Tremaine, yet
seemingly not displeased.
66 What is a poor damsel to do ?” cried Geor-
gina : u will he admit us or not ?”
It was a question not unnatural, for Sir Hilde-
brand had shrunk away from the gate, and was
mounting the stairs of the summer-house, looking
back every now and then as if to see if he was
followed,
66 You have gained much by your visit,” cried
Tremaine, laughing; u I wonder how this philo-
sophy of yours will turn it to account.”
TREMAINE.
31
Xi I don’t understand it,” said the Doctor,
’“myself; when Mr. Jerome, who had been at
the gate all the time, with the best bow that sixty
years could muster, informed them that Sir Hilde-
brand would be glad to see them in the summer-
house, and the lady might come in, if she pleased.”
“Very gracious! truly,” observed Tremaine;
for heaven’s sake let us drive on.”
« But pray, friend, how could you find this
out ?” asked Evelyn, u for he has not said a word
to you.”
u I understand his honour’s manner,” answered
the butler, with another bow.
“ We must let every man speak in his own
language,” remarked Evelyn, getting out.
“You lead me like a school-boy,” exclaimed
Tremaine, handing Georgina; and the party
followed to the summer-house.
They were here agreeably surprised. A large
room, or rather library — many hundreds of books —
an orrery, globes, models, maps, and all that be-
spoke well-educated retirement. And then, for
elegance, in one recess, there was collected an as-
sortment of the finest Dresden and Seve porcelain,
not to mention jars from Pekin itself.
The most surprising thing was the master, who
having at first, with rather an impressive air,
reached chairs for them with his own hands, im-
mediately betook himself to one of the windows,
out of which he looked for some minutes, as if no
c 4
32
TREMAINE.
one had been within. No one spoke, so much
were they occupied with observation ; when turn-
ing round, Sir Hildebrand called out, as if sud-
denly struck, cc Two turtle and two haunches
to-day, besides peaches from the new forcing-
house. There ought to be a large company, but I
have seen nobody but the High Sheriff go by yet.”
Then turning suddenly to Tremaine, he said, c< I
knew your grandfather well. I am glad to see
you; but I am sorry you shut yourself up. You
have made no vow, I hope. A bad thing to tempt
heaven — a very bad thing, take my word for it.”
Pausing a little he added with rather a vacant
look, “ I see the world, however, very well; do
you know I have sometimes counted thirty-seven
coaches and chaises in a day, going by this window;
and I can always tell if there is any good news,
before Lord Bellenden himself; for he cannot see
the ribbons in the coachmens’ hats.”
His company were rather struck with interest,
than betrayed into any astonishment at this; —
and allowed him to proceed. Then assuming a
wiser tone, 66 Let me give you a piece of advice,”
said he, “ Mr. Tremaine: You see there a great
deal of knowledge,” (pointing to his books and
instruments;) u vain, if it is not useful; and
not useful, if not communicated.
“ It is strange how the price of corn is got up
in York market, and ducks, which I remember at
sixpence, are, they say now, half a crown. The
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33
gold, too, all gone; but I have got some, though
I don’t tell where. Ha ! ha ! there is Lord S . . .
gone by; — he is a Catholic you know, and much
disappointed at the bill being lost; — how did
you vote, Mr. Tremaine? — I hope against the
Committee !”
Tremaine had taste enough to perceive, that to
say he was always for enquiry, would only have
brought on a discussion as useless as misplaced,
and therefore did not answer.
“ Well !” continued the humourist, 66 only don’t
shut yourself up. — If I dared go out of my gate. I
would have better company than J ones or Dobbs.”
These were afterwards explained by Evelyn to
be the Curate, and a neighbouring farmer, who
for the last seventeen years had dined with Sir
Hildebrand every Sunday, the only recreation he
allowed himself, beyond the chance passengers he
met with at his gate.
“ But,” proceeded he, “ I go to see no one, and
therefore no one comes to see me; there is a give
and take in all things, and I do as well as I can.
I am in the commission, and nobody is the securer
for it; I read, and nobody is the wiser for it;
I am rich, and nobody is the better for it. This
is bad, very bad, Mr. Tremaine. I see there
is another carriage ; Lord Bellenden must be very
happy ; but it will cost him a deal of money, a
deal of money ! — Old Jones says, u there is more
waste in his kitchen in a month, than would sup«
port him all the year round.”
34
TREMAINE.
Afterwards, whispering Evelyn, loud enough to
be heard, however, by all ; u They say he stews
five hams into one turtle— and yet the estate can
pay then observing Georgina looking at him
with some pity and a great deal of kindness, he sat
mute for several minutes, twisting his thumbs, like
a school-boy corrected by the glance of his master.
Evelyn eyed him with tenderness, and in pure
compassion wishing to change the conversation,
said he was glad to see him so well.
ec Yes !” he replied, “ I am pure well, — but
not so happy as I was : — people don’t come to
talk to me at the gate as they used, and nobody
minds me — yet I have five thousand a year, and
no one but a fourth cousin.” — then regarding
Georgina with more courage than hitherto, u you
say she is your daughter ; — well, she is very pretty,
and seems very gentle — but have a care — and
whispering in Evelyn’s ear, he remarked, 66 no
one can trust ’em after which, as if exhausted
by the effort, he fell again into silence.
The whole party were affected, and Evelyn
rose to go — “ Stop,” said Sir Hildebrand to Geor-
gina — “ You seem as I said, gentle; you seem
honest too, and would not say one thing and
do another. I am much obliged to you for com-
ing to see me. I never saw but one that looked so
handsome and so good, and she turned out ill.”
Here the old man sighed. 66 You are not mar-
ried, I peiteive, for you want a ring then un-
TREMAINE.
35
Socking a small cabinet, he took out a diamond
hoop, with a ruby in the middle of it, of con-
siderable value, and fitting it on her finger, be-
fore she seemed aware of what he was about,
u there,” said he, if ever you want a friend
you may come again — but when you chuse a hus-
band, chuse somebody that will be good to the
poor.” After which bowing to them all, he said,
66 I think I have counted all the carriages that
have gone by, and yours will be the fourth.”
Both Evelyn and Tremaine thought it was time
to leave the poorBaronet to himself, and Georgina
having looked at her father, and perceiving that
he wished her to accept the ring, would have
returned her thanks ; but she was not only very
much affected, but the giver hung his head in
even sheepish distress, and begged her so awk-
wardly to say nothing about it, that she was si-
lent — contenting herself with a courtesy and a
look, which was not thrown away upon Sir Hil-
debrand, much less upon Tremaine, who trans-
lated that look into ten thousand softnesses, every
one of them winding into his own heart.
The Baronet himself seemed roused by it, for
he immediately said, with an air of something
like dignity, “ if you are going, at least let me
have the honour of assisting you,” and actually
gave his hand to her with a manner which
a Lord Chamberlain need not have blushed at.
Georgina could not help pressing it as he put
36
TREMAINE.
her into the carriage, which made him falter and
blush, so as to disable him from saying a word to
his male guests ; and many were the speculations
from the windows of the Hall, and the walls of
the court-yard, which were crowded with his ser-
vants and tenants, as Tremaine and his friends
drove off to Bellenden House.
CHAP. IV.
“ The scars upon your honour therefore, he
" Does pity, as constrained blemishes,
“ Not as deserved.”
SHAKSPEARE.
The party were for many minutes silent after
leaving Homestead.
Georgina was affected, even to tears, with what
she had seen ; Evelyn was much impressed, and
Tremaine thoughtful : so that Lord Bellenden’s
lodges were almost in sight before the train of re-
flection was broken. At length Evelyn could not
help exclaiming, M a noble mind seems here o’er-
thrown.”
Ci I own I expected something very different,”
said Tremaine with emotion.
TREMAINE.
37
“ Poor fellow !” cried Georgina, as she looked
at her ring, and could not help a tear falling upon
it, which she was unwilling to wipe away.
“ Poor fellow !” said Georgina, “ I will keep
it for his sake.”
The emotion did not make either of her compa-
nions less thoughtful.
“ You see, my friend,” said Evelyn with a se-
rious air, “ what it is, as this poor gentleman ob-
served, to tempt Heaven. It is evident that the
report of the neighbourhood is true; and that, in
a temporary fit of disgust, perhaps of madness,
from disappointment, he bound himself to this
way of life by a vow. The consequence is, that
by brooding over in solitude, what he might have
dissipated by business, he nursed himself into a
humourist, and has led a useless, and, I should
think, an unhappy life.”
“The latter does not appear,” said Tremaine,
rousing; “he seems to have been social at least
at his gate; and, as long as he had plenty of gos-
sip, not to have been unhappy.”
“ Granting that,” replied the Doctor, “ to what
indeed, as you sometimes say, is a man of edu-
cation reduced, when, to count the stage coaches,
or busy one’s self about another man’s kitchen, has
become, perhaps, a serious employment ?”
“May he not from your own theory,” said Tre-
maine, “ be happy ?”
“ If he may,” answered Evelyn, “ which per-
38
TREMAINE.
haps I ought not to deny, it at least proves the
soundness of the theory itself — for you see his so-
litude, unoccupied as it is, except by desultory
employment, (if that) forces him upon the world,
as far as he can mix in it, for the only relief he en-
joys, — and he is busy about his fellow men, though
only passengers in a post-chaise, whom he does
not even know.”
Tremaine was about to reply, when, as they
had now long passed the lodges, Lord Bellenden’s
fine place opened upon their view, and the conver-
sation stopped.
CHAP. IV-
AN EXCLUSIVE.
“ If the quick fire of youth light not your mind,
“You are no maiden, but a monument.”
SHAKSPEARE.
The visit to Homestead had deranged part of
the plan of our guests, which was, to have a walk
in the beautiful grounds, before dinner, and after-
wards to dress. Only the latter could be effected ;
and the whole company had nearly assembled in
TREMAINE.
39
the saloon, by the time they presented them-
selves.
Lady Bellenden, who regarded Georgina with
both tenderness and esteem, received her with the
most affectionate politeness, introducing her to
her daughter Lady Gertrude Bellenden’s par-
ticular attentions ; and adding, as she put their
hands together, u how I wish this moment of intro-
duction between you two may lead to a friendship
hereafter.”
Each of the young ladies, thus called upon,
surveyed the other ; calculating, according to the
quickness of eye, or penetration of judgment, that
either was endowed with, how far this amiable
wish might be realized.
Whether from the restraint which the sudden
and public expression of it imposed ; or from the
want of sufficient experience and discrimination
in the youthful parties, neither young lady dis-
covered much, that tended to raise hopes of its ac-
complishment.
Lady Gertrude was in her twenty-first year ;
of uncommon beauty of face, which was ab-
solutely brilliant with the finest white and red
in the world* She was tall, and graceful, but
there was no particularity of air, manner, or coun-
tenance, that spoke, even after acquaintance, as if
there was much within, except a very high idea of
her own consequence.
Her mother, who had long been in bad
health, had been residing some years on the Con-
40
TREMAINE.
tinent ; and these were the most critical years of
Lady Gertrude s life : for she had been left during
that whole period, under the care of her Aunt, the
Duchess of Mandeville, who was considered the
very mirror of good-breeding by the most highly
finished gentlewomen of the age. All the world
gave praise to this excellent Aunt, for having
added to the cares and anxieties which three
daughters of her own occasioned, by undertaking
the education of another young female, out of
pure kindness to her sick sister.
As for the education, it was as perfect as the
best masters, for personal, and the very best
French, (or rather, Franco Italian) governess for
mental accomplishments, could make it. The pe-
culiar province of the Duchess, was to form the
manners, the ton de societe , les usages; and in
this she was universally acknowledged to shine an
unrivalled Queen, whom all endeavoured to please,
study, and imitate.
With these advantages, Lady Gertrude could
not fail to profit much ; and every body was
anxious to know, before she was presented, how
she would come out. She came out, at once, and
in full maturity of fastidiousness, a finished Exclu-
sive.
The Duchess, in fact, was the most refined of
women. Refinement was her favourite study — her
favourite word. It was what she always recom-
mended, always preached, and always practised :
and, although to her bitter disappointment, her
TREMAINE.
41
own daughters were more disposed to imitate their
father, whose habits were rather those of a Country
Gentleman, than one at the head of the Peerage,
she found consolation in the aptitude of her niece
to follow all her precepts, and all her example.
Such was the being, for whom, in her maternal
solicitude, the amiable, as well as sensible Lady
Bellenden wished to acquire a friend in Georgina.
Such the appearance and manners, which as those
of a friend, Georgina was requested to love.
Now t , though Miss Evelyn had the most perfect
natural good-breeding that ever adorned a daughter
of nature ; and had none of the ungraceful shy-
ness which belongs to rusticity; — yet she had
certain notions of certain things, which she some-
times found inconvenient ly serious. On the pre-
sent occasion, she had been desired by a woman
of the first consequence in her circle, — one to whom
she always looked up with the sincerest esteem,
her own known friend, and at this time her hostess,
to love her daughter, as a friend. This was a
word which, to her, always sounded most serious,
as well as most sweet ; insomuch that she could
no more think of trifling w ith herself in chusing a
friend, than if she had been called upon to chuse
a husband. In point of fact, she had never had
the opportunity of chusing, or even thinking of
one or the other ; for her father had so engrossed,
so filled her mind, and was himself so absolutely
devoted to her, that he had hitherto supplied the
TREMAINE*
4 2
place of both. Yet she had often thought a frietid
of her own sex, and about her own age, would be
very delightful as well as very natural, and, in the
recesses of her boudoir, or in a lonely walk, she
had sometimes yielded to the most natural wish of
a sensible heart — the wish for a companion that
could partake with equality of interest, her amuse-
ments, her cares, and even her inmost secrets.
When, therefore, Lady Bellenden uttered her
impressive wish, it conjured up a train of ideas
long pondered, and cherished, by Georgina, of
the deepest interest to her mind, and of the very
utmost importance to her happiness. She surveyed
Lady Gertrude as a being who might influence
her future life, — in whom she was to read, as in a
book, all those happy reciprocities of sentiment,
which her own pure heart and warm fancy had
lately been so pleased to meditate. No wonder,
then, that she looked embarrassed with the force
of an emotion which no one, and least of all, Lady
Gertrude, could understand ; and which, indeed,
was the very opposite to any by which Lady Ger-
trude herself felt she could be influenced.
The abord of the two ladies was, therefore, very
different; and, it must be owned, with all our
partiality to Georgina, that, in the eyes of some of
the bye-standers, Refinement , in this instance,
might seem to have the advantage over Stra-
it was not that there was any intrinsic superi-
TREMAINE.
43
ority, even of manner, on the part of Lady Ger-
trude ; — it was simply that she was unmoved,
while Miss Evelyn seemed labouring with some-
thing which, spite of herself, was restrained.
She meant to be a great deal more than civil, yet
kindness would not flow; while Lady Gertrude,
who did not even intend much civility, felt no
kindness at all.
While their hands were yet together, and Lady
Bellenden had scarcely withdrawn her’s, Lady
Gertrude with a very short and abrupt courtesy,
said in a low voice, and with most fashionable
nonchalance, “ My mother is very good” — and
when Georgina said something about her being
always so, and that this was not the least in-
stance of it ; she replied, adjusting her tucker,
<c We dressed in such a hurry, I really don’t
know whether I am dressed or not.”
The conversation there languished, and would
perhaps have died away altogether, had not Geor-
gina. after surveying her new friend rather anxi-
ously, observed, by way of something to say, upon
the largeness of the company that was assembled.
Lady Gertrude immediately applied to her eye-
glass, which was richly set with a diamond clasp,
— and after surveying them, exclaimed, <fi they
seem a strange heterogeneous set, as they always
are upon these occasions ; but I suppose you
know them all, Miss Evelyn — in which you have
the advantage, for I really am not acquainted
44 TREMAINE.
with one in the room except Mr. Tremaine, who
is always so excessively fine, there’s no knowing
whether one knows him or not — I believe you
came with him : they say he is worse than ever.”
The glass was then directed exclusively to
Tremaine ; and one or two gentlemen approach-
ing with their wives and daughters, to salute this
daughter of the house, she replied to their civi-
lities with a most freezing, and scarcely percep-
tible bend of the head, and leaving both them
and her new friend, made her way to that part of
the room where Tremaine was engaged in con-
versation with Lord Bellenden.
CHAP. Y.
half an hour before dinner.
“ All the men and women merely players.”
SHAKSPEARE.
As there was nothing in a young lady joining
even a tete-a-tete, of which her father formed one
of the parties, Lady Gertrude thus presented
herself to Tremaine’s notice without the smallest
breach of decorum, or even derogation to her
dignity ; so that she put her arm within her
TREMAINE.
45
father’s with the prettiest air of independence and
apathy imaginable, without seeming to notice
who was his companion, except indeed, that she
was ready to receive any notice that he might
take of her. But to say truth, the gentleman
was her equal at this play ; for though he was in
fact well known to her, and had not seen her for
eighteen months, he only made her the slightest
inclination, (lor it could not be called a bow) in
which his chin was in fact the only part of the
body that moved. He then instantly pushed
through the row of squires and clergymen that
intercepted his way, till he found himself by the
side of Georgina, who was listening with all
meekness to the protecting speeches of an ex-
ceedingly great lady indeed ! This w as a high-
bred dame, who had arrived a few minutes before
in a coach and six, in which she always traversed
the northern counties. Stopping at Borough-
bridge, she had heard that JLord Bellenden, with
whom she was well acquainted, had a public day,
and had sent to say she would pay him a visit,
if Lady Bellenden would admit her in a travel-
ler’s dishabille.
Lady Bellenden had of course returned a pro-
per compliment, and the dishabille she appeared
in was a richly trimmed silk pelisse, adapted most
exactly to the enbonpoint of her figure, while her
hair was adorned with a considerable number,
but very small proportion of those diamonds,
46
TREMAINE.
which she often boasted could purchase the whole
dominion of many a German sovereign.
To this lady, Georgina had been introduced by
Lady Bellenden, when the latter found, to her
very great vexation, that Lady Gertrude had
abandoned her almost in the moment of her in-
troduction. She therefore presented Georgina
to her guest with more than common earnestness,
as one of her most favourite young friends, and
her name alone informed Mrs. Neville, who
was not unmindful of these matters, that she
was of one of the oldest families, not merely in
the county, but in England itself. This and a
countenance and manner that had the art of fix-
ing high and low in their favour, the moment
they were beheld, and were not thrown away
upon Mrs. Neville, (who was what is called an
exceedingly clever woman) drew down from her,
very voluble and voluntary offers of any thing she
could do, (and she could do a great deal) to
make London or Belvidere Castle agreeable to
her, if ever she came to her part of the world.
Georgina was replying, with as much civility
as she could muster, where her mind was not
fixed, (for in truth she was thinking and wonder-
ing at Lady Gertrude still,) when Tremaine
joined them.
44 Good Heavens ! Mr. Tremaine,” said Mrs.
Neville, 44 you here ! — we thought you had been
dead and buried above a year ago, in Northamp-
tonshire.”
TREMAINE.
47
Tremaine hardly made a salute of recognition
to Mrs. Neville, though they had been so long
separated.
u I have been inviting Miss Evelyn to Belvi-
dere,” continued Mrs. Neville, not seeming to
notice his coldness, 66 and if she will come to the
Assizes, could promise her something gay— our
rooms will be more magnificent than ever, but I
am this moment under considerable anxiety. ,,
u None of the Miss Nevilles are ill 1 hope,”
said Tremaine, playing with his watch chain ; “ I
don’t see them here.”
u Oh ! no ! I am only afraid that Marshall,
whom I always bring down to dress my hair, and
Madame la Roux, who dresses my person, cannot
set out in time, so as to be at the Assizes the first
day.”
u That w 7 ould be dreadful,” said Tremaine,
and he turned away with evident contempt.
At this moment he was met by Miss Lytdeton,
the lady whom we mentioned in a former chap-
ter, as having excited in him inextinguishable
dislike, from certain masculine tastes, which had
made him confer upon her, the title of the man
woman. He started when he saw’, or rather
when he resolved not to see her broad hand
stretched out, and inviting his to a grasp, which
he declined encountering. He bowed and en-
deavoured to pass on.
M Why, what can be the matter with the man!”
48
TREMAINE.
cried the surprised female ; u do you think I am
a bear, and would hug you to death ?” —
44 He is not quite sure,” observed Mrs. Neville,
who had seen the rencontre.
u That is so lik eyou” returned Miss Lyttleton,
a but really I will be obliged to you if you can tell
me what has come to him, for he has cut me for
the last two years most decidedly.”
6i He has begun, I think, to cut me too,”
rejoined Mrs. Neville, u but we must let spoilt
children have their own way, for it is too much
trouble to attempt to correct them.”
66 But I really used to like the fellow,” con-
tinued Miss Lyttleton. u Well, I hope I shall
find somebody else of my acquaintance, for I can-
not do without a man to flirt with, or laugh at,
and my mother has left me with Lady Bellenden
for three days; — only think what a bore!”
Then eyeing Georgina through her glass, a by
the way,” she proceeded, u you seem to have got
a pretty young thing there with you, do introduce
me, will you?”
As this could not be refused, the ceremony was
instantly performed, and while she shook, or rather
twisted Georgina’s slender wrist, u I assure you,”
she exclaimed, u I like a pretty girl, almost as
well as a pretty fellow. By the way I don’t at all
like those curls of your’s; why don’t you crop as
close as I do? — Mrs. Neville, how do you like
my new crop?”
TREMAINE.
49
At this she bent down her head to shew how
entirely she had stript a poll of strong black hair,
of every thing like ornament, or a possibility of
being ornamented. Mrs. Neville said that to pu-
nish her she would put her into a cap.
u Odious !” she returned. 66 I hate all caps, but
a hunting cap. They make one look so like a
woman ! But I declare there’s Tremaine again — I
must go and plague him ;” and she immediately
flew off.
Mrs. Neville turning to Georgina, smiled to
observe her astonishment, which to say truth was
sufficiently marked.
a You are quite struck I perceive,” said Mrs,
Neville.
u Why, I own she is at least extraordinary,”
answered Georgina, u may I ask more particularly
who and what she is ?”
6C I should say,” replied Mrs. Neville, 6t that she
was one of my protegees, did she not soar so infi-
nitely above all protection. She is certainly eccen-
tric, but I really believe there is no harm in her.”
She then proceeded to inform Georgina, that she
was the daughter of a good-natured country gentle-
man in the neighbourhood, who with an indolent
mother had allowed her to do just as she pleased, —
and that she had pleased always to affect the man,
instead of the woman. This she added, on more
occasions than one, had been the means of getting
her into scrapes, from which she had generally
YOL. II. D
ex-
50
TREMAINE.
tricated herself by being the first to laugh at them,
and availing herself of a sort of privilege of saying
and doing whatever it came into her head to say or do.
This little account was interrupted by the ap-
proach of JLady Gertrude, who perceiving Mrs.
Neville, came up to that lady with something like
pleasure, and shaking hands with her, exclaimed,
“ O ! I am so glad to see you here, it is really quite
shocking to have no one to speak to !”
Is this to be my friend ? said Georgina to herself.
The lady went on, u oh ! do pray let me sit by
you at dinner, my dear Mrs. Neville ; — by the w T ay,
how did you come ? — did you know this w as one of
my father’s public days ?” surveying her dress.
u Oh ! don’t look at me,” said Mrs. Neville, 66 for
I am merely en voyageuse , and if it were not for a
few diamonds that my woman got at for me, I
should not be fit to be seen. However, I see you've
scarcely any body here.”
“ Oh no ! nothing but parsons and parsons’
daughters,” said Lady Gertrude, sotto voce.
My friend ! observed Georgina again to herself.
<s How you overlook merit,” replied Mrs. Neville
— cc don’t you see Mr. Horton ?”
c( Still w 7 orse !” remarked Lady Gertrude; u an
honest downright Yorkshire Squire, might do — but
a Squire, whose head is turned, merely because he
belongs to one of the lower club houses in St.
James’s Street, is quite unbearable.”
TREMAINE.
51
6i Well then,” cried Mrs. Neville, 66 I will now
really give you joy, for if I mistake not here come
two admirers of yours.”
66 I protest and so they do,” said Lady Gertrude
eyeing them through her glass.
These were no less persons than the Lord St.
Clair, and the still greater Beau, of whom such
honourable mention has been made in a former
chapter. Seeing Mrs. Neville and Lady Ger-
trude, they instantly joined them ; the Beau upon
* the same principle as Lady Gertrude herself,
had sought Mrs. Neville, and for the rest of the
interval, till dinner was announced, the groupe
seemed quite happy, if Lady Gertrude’s happiness
was not a little alloyed by the attentions which St.
Clair paid to his old acquaintance and relation
Georgina, and by the total neglect of Tremaine.
For this however she was amply compensated by
the Beau, to whom she gave the same carte du pays
as she had given to Mrs. Neville, and who finding
from her, that Georgina was the daughter of a
country parson, scarcely vouchsafed to look at her.
Having agreed to sit all together, and, as the Beau
said, to let the Natives take care of themselves,
which was thought very witty by Mrs. Neville and
Lady Gertrude, they adjourned, on a summons, to
the dining-room, where about thirty persons of both
sexes sat down.
d 2
a Of !LL LIB,
52
TREMAINE*
CHAP. VI.
PRECEDENCY.
te You know your own degrees ; sit down ; at first
“ And last, a hearty welcome.”
SHAKSPEARE.
It was however not without difficulty that the
guests were arranged ; since in addition to Country
precedency, a point infinitely too nice for the best
heraldry to settle, the wish of the above honourable
party to sit together threw considerable embar-
rassment in the way. The place of Lord St. Clair,
as first in rank, decided itself, and he was seated by
Lady Bellenden, at her right hand without opposi-
tion. Mrs. Neville seated herself in the chair next
to him, Mr. Beaumont was going to take Lady
Bellenden’s left hand, and Lady Gertrude next to
him, and thus all would have been quietly and
comfortably arranged. But unforeseen, though
insuperable impediments arose on the part of Sir
Marmaduke Crabtree, and not only of Lady Crab-
tree, but Lady Grojam, Lady Mayfield, and Lady
Bluemantle, the three first, wives of Baronets, the
last only of a Knight, but that Knight the High
Sheriff himself. All these high dames had in their
way, just as high notions of their own consequence
’TREMAINE. 53
&s Mrs. Neville, and as the latter had no title, they
were by no means disposed to yield their rank.
Sir Marmaduke began the attack by immediately
seizing the Beau’s chair, just as he was going to sit
down. He owed it he thought to Yorkshire, to his
own ancient Baronetcy, and to his hoped-for Peer-
age, not to give way to a man, whom, however well
received in the very best circles in Town, he looked
down upon as greatly his inferior, particularly in the
country, and most of all in Yorkshire.
u By your leave, Mr. Beaumont,” said Sir Mar-
maduke ; “ I have sat at this lady’s left hand, any
time these twenty years, upon these occasions, and I
hope she will not order me away from her now.”
Mr. Beaumont instantly yielded, and to do him
justice, with very good grace.
u If she did,” added Sir Marmaduke sitting
down, and leering at his wife, as he said it, u I must
obey, for every body knows I am under petticoat
government.”
Now as every body knew that Lady Crabtree
had in fact what is called a very bad time of it as a
wife, this was considered an exceeding good joke
of Sir Marmaduke’s. It was laughed at accord-
ingly, by Mr. Placid, who after attempting a seat
higher up the table than he had a right to, was
regularly giving way to every one who claimed a
chair above him, until he had reached the bottom,
catching the joke however in its progress as it
went.
54
TREMAINE.
Sir Marmaduke having disposed of himself, there
still remained the female difficulties above menti-
oned ; for the three Baronet’s ladies, and Lady
Bluemantle, all remained standing, not chusing to
place themselves while Mrs. Neville was actually
seated above them. — All however agreed, that Mrs.
High Sheriff, though only a Knight’s Lady, was to
have the precedency.
(e My dear Lady Bluemantle,” cried they all in a
voice, u the thing is quite decided.”
iC Perhaps so,” said Lady Bluemantle, Ci but
where am I to sit ?” refusing the chair she was next
to, and looking significantly at the seated Mrs.
Neville.
Lady Bellenden appeared distressed, and said,
ee Mrs. High Sheriff, a thousand pardons, you are
certainly in your wrong place ; Gertrude my dear,
let Lady Bluemantle have your chair.”
But unfortunately, this being on the left hand,
was a compromise by no means agreeable to Mrs.
High Sheriff, who still kept looking at Mrs. Neville.
That superior lady, who had affected to be talking
to Lord St. Clair, but who saw the whole contest
from the first, had in fact wished to keep her seat,
both because she wished to be next St. Clair, and
was too proud to yield it to persons, who though
they ranked before her in title, did not, as she knew,
come near her in real consequence, and whom in
fact, she looked upon as mighty ordinary people.
But perceiving that she was occasioning embarrass-
TREMAINE.
55
ment to Lady Bellenden, and that she could easily
turn the ill breeding of which she might be accused
upon her rivals, she with admirable presence of
mind started up, exclaiming, u Dear me ladies, I
have a million of pardons to beg ; pray Lady Bel-
lenden excuse me ; I have quite forgot myself ; I
really thought I was in my own County.” Then
insisting upon placing Lady Bluemantle in the
chair she resigned, she observed with a laugh, that
titles were really now become so common, that a
plain gentlewoman never could tell whereabouts she
was.
Miss Lyttleton here proposed a side-table, the fun
of which she said she should like of all things ;
adding she was sure she should prove an excellent
toast-master.
u Perhaps,” said Mrs. Neville, 6C dear Lady
Gertrude will make room for me ; or what may be
better still, suppose we all go to the bottom of the
table ; Lord Bellenden will I hope be glad to
receive us.” At these words moving downwards,
she was followed by Lady Gertrude and Mr. Beau-
mont, who said it was an excellent plan, and having
deranged the whole settlement in Lord Bellenden’s
neighbourhood, the Baronet ladies agreed upon
their seniorities at the upper end, all was harmony,
and the dinner commenced.
56
TREMAINE.
CHAP. YU.
POLITE CONVERSATION.
“ Our court you know is haunted with a refined traveller
of Spain.”
SHAKSPEAliE.
u Admirably carried !” said Tremaine to Geor-
gina, by whom he had seated himself about the
middle of the table, after having observed the whole
contest with more than usual interest. u The Em-
press Catharine could not have settled it better, had
she condescended to squabble about such a thing.”
C( Pray Sir, did you know any thing about the Em-
press Catharine?” asked a gentleman who sat op-
posite, and happened to hear him.
t{ Not personally,” answered Tremaine, rather
surprised at the abruptness of the stranger.
u I knew her, I may say intimately,” replied the
gentleman, “and all her ministers, generals, and
ladies.”
Tremaine bowed with great distance of manner ;
then, turning to Georgina, began to do the honours
of that part of the table, wondering who this
stranger was, who was so familiarly disposed.
TREMAINE.
57
“ I had letters,” continued the stranger, not al-
lowing Tremaine to escape, “from old Kaunitz, to
whom I had been recommended by the ministry
here, which gave me the greatest facilities, at the
court of St. Petersburg!!.”
“ I dare say, Sir,” answered Tremaine coldly,
and proceeding to carve a ham that smoked before
him.
“ My first rencontre with Prince Kaunitz,” con-
tinued the gentleman with intrepid vivacity, “ was
remarkable— and I will relate it if you please.”
“Whether I please or not it seems,” said Tre-
maine in a low voice. The stranger then sending
away his plate, went on thus : “ Lord R. (then
Mr. R.) and myself agreed to ride into Vienna ; it
was the first time we were there ; I visited it several
times afterwards, both on my return from Berlin, and
from Poland.”
“ Do you know this person ?” said Tremaine to
Evelyn.
“Not I,” answered the Doctor, “but he seems
amusing.”
“ Amusing !” cried Tremaine,— “ Hear him,” said
the Doctor.
“ Well,” proceeded the traveller, “Lord R. (then
Mr. R.) and I resolved to ride into Vienna on post-
horses. Lord R. was then young, handsome, and
gay, and perhaps the greatest beau of his age. He
wore red heels to his boots, and gilt spurs — had on
a gold-laced riding coat and hat, a couteau de chasse
d 5
53
TREMAINE.
by his side, and a long hunters whip in his
hand.”
“ That’s just like the picture of my father,” said
Sir Marmaduke ; adding in a low voice to Lady
Bellenden, “who the devil is this odd gentle-
man ?” —
Lady Bellenden informed him it was Sir William
Wagstaff, a great Author and Traveller, who had
brought letters of introduction to Lord Bellenden,
in his way to the north. Some fish stopped the pro-
gress of the story, which the company thought
was lost ; when Mr. Placid, who had been very at-
tentive, said — “ Pray Sir, go on : what you were re-
lating was very entertaining.”
“ Sir, you do me honour,” resumed the stranger ;
and immediately addressing himself to him, con-
tinued : “ well, we came in at a canter, preceded by
an avant courier, and attended by two English
grooms, and two French valets, all on horseback :
and whom should we meet but Prince Kaunitz tak-
ing an airing in his coach and six.”
“ Indeed !” exclaimed Mr. Placid.
“ He was struck with the cavalcade, and pre-
suming that some great person, possibly a crowned
head; or, what perhaps interested him as much, at
least, some great Ambassador was arriving, he put
his head out of his coach window, and made us a
low bow ; and clasping his hands in an entreating
manner, exclaimed, “ Monsieur Oserai je vous de-
mander, qui est ce qui arrive ?” My Lord R. (then
TREMAINE.
59
Mr. R.) immediately reined up his horse, and pull-
ing off his hat, in a very chivalrous manner, with his
right hand on his breast, and a low bow, replied
“Monsieur, c’est moi.” The astonished prince, over-
whelmed with the liberty he had taken, shrunk back
in his coach, with a long drawn exclamation of
Ah ! which none of this company I appre-
hend, if they have not been abroad, can appre-
ciate. ,,
“It is a delightful story,” said Mr, Placid;
“ pray Sir, did nothing else pass ?”
“ What a parasite,” observed Tremaine to Evelyn.
“The gentleman does not think so,” answered
Evelyn.
The gentleman went on — “ why yes, we were that
very evening presented to Prince Kaunitz at his as-
sembly, and, to his surprise, he found in Lord R.
the gentleman whom he had taken for a foreign Am-
bassador.”
“ I never heard any thing more entertaining,” said
Mr. Placid.
Somebody now mentioning a particular name, it
immediately caught the traveller’s ear, as belonging
to an Author of some notoriety from a northern
kingdom, who was a traveller too, but who rested
his fame upon very extensive works in history and
moral science.
The stranger asked aloud if that was the man who
wrote the history of ? Now it happened
that at that moment, the very identical Author of
60
TREMAINE.
that very history, who had been brought to Lord
Bellenden’s dinner by a neighbouring Dean, was en-
gaged with Mrs. Neville in a disquisition upon
geology, from which that lady seemed very much to
wish to be released.
When therefore the above speech of the traveller
was uttered, Lord Bellenden became anxious, lest so
critical a question might disturb the harmony of his
table, by involving the two Authors in a personal
contest ; and in order to prevent all danger, at least
as it might arise from ignorance, he instantly inter-
posed by observing, “ I perceive, Sir William, you
know that gentleman only by reputation, for I have
the honour of having him close by me. I have been
faulty in not presenting two eminent persons to each
other — Dr. M { Ginnis, give me leave to introduce
Sir William Wagstaff to you.”
This good-nature on the part of Lord Bellenden,
met with a strange return ; for our traveller, (whe-
ther from jealousy, a real fit of absence, or some
infatuation,) after returning the profound bow which
the Scotch Doctor made him, exclaimed, as one who
was thinking aloud, ee A strange rencontre ! its very
well I did not go any farther.” Lord Bellenden
was in consternation at this speech ; particularly as
he observed the Doctor red from ear to ear with re-
sentment, and about to make a thundering reply ;
when the traveller, with probably greater presence
of mind than strict good faith, perceiving he had got
into a scrape, disarmed the Doctor in a moment by
TREMAINE.
61
observing, a My dear Sir, I have made you a very
awkward speech, but you know there are two ways
of construing it — favourably and unfavourably. I
will only put it to your own knowledge of good
breeding, in which sense I could have meant it.”
“ Oh, my dear Sir,” answered the mollified Doc-
tor, bowing with most dignified humility — u I am
convinced how a person of your figure could alone
have meant it : and, indeed, as you vary justly ob-
serve, it would have been vary awkward for your
humble servant, (though it has hay-pened to me be-
fore n )W, turning to Lord Bellenden and Mrs.
Neville,) to have heard my own works praised be-
fore my face.”
This speech entirely cured the fears of the good-
natured Lord Bellenden, who afterwards declared
he should have desired no better entertainment than
to have seen the two Authors cut up each other.
Mr. Beaumont observed gravely to the Doctor,
that really so great a reputation must sometimes be
inconvenient ; to which the Doctor modestly as-
sented.
This little episode being over, the business of
dinner went on with earnestness, and many were the
praises of the venison, and turtle, the grapes, the
pines, and the peaches which were demolished.
“ It must be an immense expence to Lord Bel-
lenden,” whispered Mr. Placid to his next neigh-
bour, but loud enough to be heard; K but he does
62
TREMAINE.
not mind expence in the service of his friends! — ■
4 4 They tell me,” added he, lowering his voice, “full
thirty thousand a year.”
“Your pines, my Lord, are remarkably good,”
said Mrs. Neville; “but I think, with all proper
submission, not so good as ours at Belvidere
Castle.”
“Not so good!” exclaimed Mr. Placid; “and
yet I should not easily imagine they could be
better.”
“Who is this person?” asked Mrs. Neville.
“ I really don’t know,” said Lady Gertrude.
“ He is very ill bred,” observed Mrs. Neville.
“ That he certainly is,” said Lady Gertrude.
“Your Ladyship,” ventured Mr. Placid timidly,
“ must have remarkably fine fruit, and be at a vast
expence.”
“I am no Lady,” answered Mrs. Neville, haugh-
tily, and with a sort of contemptuous laugh.
44 I beg pardon,” said Mr. Placid, completely
repulsed.
“ Poor wretch!” cried Tremaine, in half sup-
pressed soliloquy.
44 By the way,” said Lord Bellenden, 44 we ought
to condole with you and Mr. Neville.”
44 Condole! for what?” returned Mrs. Neville,
with affected surprise, yet with a sort of satisfaction
which shewed she knew what was coming.
44 On the result of a certain trial,” rejoined Lord
TREMAINE.
63
Bellenden, examining her eye, to see if he had
gone too far. He saw he had no occasion for fear.
i( Oh! yon mean that trumpery verdict,” answered
Mrs. Neville, “ for thirty thousand pounds.”
66 Nay, I heard it was fifty,” said Lord Bellenden,
u and I sincerely give you joy if it's no more than
thirty.”
C£ O! aye — 1 believe it was fifty,” returned Mrs.
Neville, — u fifty or thirty; it was of very little con-
sequence which. There was a terrible arrear of
rent, but we would not accept of a farthing, when
the right was determined. — We had an insolent mes-
sage from that upstart Sir John, about paying at our
convenience, but I would not let Mr. Neville lisien
for a moment, and the money was paid down at
once. It was of no sort of consequence.”
At this, she began to play with her toothpick-
case, adjust her ruff, look down, and look up, with
the prettiest inflation of real pride and apparent
nonchalance that the dear sex, in its dearest moments
of affectation, ever exhibited!
66 How I envy you, my dear Mrs. Neville,” whis-
pered Lady Gertrude.
u Rather, how I envy Mr. Neville,” whispered
Mr. Beaumont.
u I am sure I don’t know for what,” said Mrs.
Neville; “ your envy is easily excited.”
“ Gode bliss me, Madam,” exclaimed Doctor
M‘Ginnis ; “ did I understand these gentlefolks to
mean that your Leedyship ”
64
TREMAINE.
66 1 must beg to explain again,” cried Mrs. Neville,
“ that I am no lady.”
u Wall ! wall ! we know that you ought to be,”
observed the Doctor. —
“ No indeed!” interrupted Mrs. Neville. — u We
are too good for Baronets, and not good enough for
Peers;” and this she said with the greatest collected
dignity possible.
(C Madam,” said the Doctor, we all know that it
is not tightle (a) that makes honour ; and if really,
(as indeed you saying it, who can doubt?) you paid
all this fifty or even thirty thousand pounds, with all
this praise-worthy dignity of spirit, merely upon being
called upon, I must say His Majesty is not properly
advised, as to the persons upon whom he confers, or
to speak with more precision, upon whom he does
not confer the dignity of the peerage.”
The lady bowed with silent gravity, preserving all
her sang froid, at this speech, yet sufficiently low to
inform the Doctor he had not displeased her.
ce I told you he Was a parasite,” said Tremaine to
Evelyn.
66 The man is not such a fool,” said Mr. Beaumont,
in a low voice to Mrs. Neville ; to which that lady
replied with a supercilious sort of smile, and at the
same time a rap of the knuckles with her toothpick-
case.
“ I wish my mother would go,” said Lady Ger-
(a) I have spelt the word thus, to express as well as I could, the
emphatic guttural in which it was pronounced.
TREMAINE.
65
trude, yawning; 44 she thinks it so civil to stay with
these people.”
44 Why to be sure,” answered Mrs. Neville, 44 do
you think with all her rectitude, (and to be sure no-
body has more) she does not know what she is
about ? or your father there, good dear man ! would
he do all this in the county for nothing? By the
bye, how old is your brother ?”
44 Who, Norburn ? twenty — nineteen — I really
don’t know, and don’t care — I really am so stupid,
I don’t know what I am about, or what I am
saying.”
44 Forgive me, my dear, if on such an occasion,
you ought to know both the one and the other,”
replied Mrs. Neville — 44 we who come in upon a
popular election, where there are a great many long
purses, owing to that hideous commerce, are forced
to study, and therefore are able to give a lesson.”
The signal so much wished fur by Lady Gertrude,
was now given by the Countess ; and the ladies
retired in the same order that had been settled at
dinner; but Mrs. Neville staid behind every one, to
go out arm in arm with her dear Lady Gertrude,
who as the daughter of the house, retired last. As
soon as the door was closed, Lord Rellenden took
the head of the table, and was followed without
ceremony by Mr. Beaumont, who did not much
like his quarters, now there was neither the host
nor the host’s daughter to enliven him.
And now Dr. M 4 Ginnis prepared his mighty spirit,
66
TREMAINE.
and hoped die wished-for opportunity was come,
when he might display those powers of ratiocination,
and that fund of information, which he seemed pecu-
liarly to have treasured up for occasions of this sort.
And now the most accomplished of travellers revolved
in his mind all his magazines of anecdote, and egot-
ism, sighing for that fortunate question, or opportune
remark which might unlock the ample store ; and
now Mr. Beaumont began to look round in quest of
food for his favourite amusement of quizzing ; — in
short the health of the King was given, the signal for
general con vernation was thrown out, and every man’s
heart beat high with expectation.
Save only Tremaine’s, which had alone felt plea-
sure while he found himself near to Georgina, and
which, now she was gone, gave itself up to the disgust
which preyed upon it, from the folly or the vice
which he attributed to every one of his neighbours ;
always excepted the master of the feast, and Evelyn,
to whom he clung with more than usual attachment.
But the removal of Lord Bellenden to the head of
the table, was rather a damper to Doctor M’Ginnis’s
hopes, as he by that means was deprived of his most
illustrious auditor; the man, whom, being master of
the house, he most wished to please. For it was a
very good house ; the company assembled in it, very
good company ; and the table which adorned it, a
very good table ; in short it was a house which in all
respects the Doctor had no objection to visit again.
Soon however he was relieved, for a difference of
TREMAINE.
67
opinion had already begun to arise at the upper end
of the table, in consequence of a warm eulogy of the
traveller upon the Empress Elizabeth, for abolishing
capital punishments in her dominions, accompanied
with a censure, in no very measured terms, upon the
sanguinary nature of the English law. This was
replied to by Lord Bellenden himself, who as a
Senator, and perhaps as Chairman of Sessions, where
he so worthily presided, thought it right to defend
the policy of his country.
Evelyn, who had hitherto been a silent observer,
but who loved conversation, ranged himself on
the side of Lord Bellenden, while Beaumont, whe-
ther he thought it not fair for two to fall upon one, or
that he might be better able to draw out the ridicu-
lous, by an affected support, warmly took the part of
the traveller. The Doctor saw and heard all this
with envious eyes, and ears, and began to ponder his
misfortune in being placed so hors de combat , or, what
w r as worse, in combat with Mr. Placid, who gave no
scope whatever to his dialectic powers.
In this emergency some assertion of the traveller
in respect to the great King of Prussia, staggered the
noble host, particularly as Evelyn said it was a good
argument, if the fact were true ; and all he had to do
was to doubt the fact, until better informed.
Appeal was made to Tremaine, as having been at
Berlin, but he protested the King of Prussia had
been so long dead when he was there, that he could
say nothing with accuracy on the subject. It was
68
TREMAINE,
then that the Doctor’s good star presided, for Lord
Bellenden recollecting he had travelled many years
before, and had seen the great Frederick alive, deter-
mined to appeal to him; which he accordingly did in
a voice quite loud enough to be heard. The Doctor
felt great pleasure at being thus appealed to ; but
though Lord Bellenden’s language was as clear as
his lungs were good, he nevertheless protested, with
many apologies, that he hay-pened to be so vary deef
that day with a cauld, that he had not the honour of
being able to make oot his lordship’s quastion.
u Suppose you come among us,” said Lord Bel-
lenden ? <e we can make room for you.
u Weellingly my Lord,” answered the delighted
Doctor, and then with his napkin and dessert plate in
his hand, he bade adieu to his more ordinary neigh-
bours, to follow fortune in a higher circle.
The question was whether Frederick the Great
had not imitated the example of Elizabeth.
cc 1 suppose,” said the Doctor, with a grave and
wise air, as becoming one who had been chosen a
referee, ye all know he was called Le Roi philoso-
phe et guerrier.”
66 To be sure we do,” answered the traveller , u who
does not ?”
66 I confess I did not,” said Mr. Beaumont with
great seriousness ; “ I should be glad to hear Dr.
M £ Ginnis.”
66 Sir, you do me great honor,” returned the Doctor
bowing : “ and, Sir,” turning to the traveller, “ you
TREMAINE.
69
will never airgu if you hurry thengs ; you are too
ray pid by half.”
“ I am not arguing,” replied the traveller, 66 1 am
only advancing a fact which you cannot deny ; — if
you do, I only refer you to Baron Reisbach’s account
of Frederick the Great.”
“ Sir,” rejoined the historian, u it is not I that am
to be referred to any account of a man whose life I
have made it my foesiness to study : but the theng
lies much deeper : ye are upon the nature of laws,
and as I collacted where I sat, upon cay-pital punish-
ments.”
“ I thought you were so damned deaf, you could
not hear,” said Sir Marmaduke.
The Doctor looked adust, but Mr. Beaumont
gravely observed, he knew from experience, that it
was the nature of deafness, to hear at one time, and
not at another.
“ I thank ye Sir, again,” said the Doctor, u ye
have explained it vary philosophically.”
“ But the King of Prussia,” again cried the tra-
veller, with encreased eagerness.
“We are not yet ripe for him,” answered the phleg-
matic jurisconsult ; “ a mere fact will do nothing, tell
ye have sattled the whol theory and nature of laws
in general ; I presume you have never read Ulpian or
Papinian — ”
“No! thank Heaven,” said the traveller, quite
vexed.
66 And yet no one,” replied the Doctor unmoved.
70
TREMAINE.
need thank Heaven for his own ignorance at which
many of the company laughed, to the annoyance of
the traveller. 44 Perhaps,” continued the Doctor,
enjoying his advantage, 44 ye have not canvassed the
laws of the twelve tables, foonded upon those of
Solon, and sent for express from Rome to Athens—
but ye possibly have heard of Draco.”
44 This is quite unbearable,” groaned the traveller.
44 Depend upon it he cannot contradict your fact,”
whispered Mr. Beaumont, encouraging him.
44 When my gude Lord Bellenden and this gude
company,” continued the Doctor,” shall have heard
the end of my airgurnent ”
44 I own I have not heard the beginning of it,”
said Lord Bellenden ; to which Sir Marmaduke
added, it was a damned dry argument, and desired
they would push about the bottle.
44 Shall we go to the ladies ?” asked Tremaine,
almost dead with ennui.
64 They have not sent for us,” said Lord Bellen-
den.
44 We are not milksops,” roared Sir Marmaduke.
44 My good Doctor,” said Lord Bellenden , 44 all we
want to know is, whether the King of Prussia imi-
tated the example of the Empress Elizabeth, as Sir
William Wagstaff says, (and I venture to deny,) in
abolishing capital punishments.”
44 Your Lordship is parfectly corract,” returned
the Doctor.
44 Impossible !” ejaculated the traveller, 44 I will
TREMAINE.
71
shew it you in Baron Reisbach’s eulogy, and it was
always so held when I was at Berlin ; I cannot be
mistaken. O ! if I had but a Reisbach !”
w I do not exactly deny or affirm any thing,” re-
plied the Doctor, not willing to hazard himself as to
the fact ; but only that he did not eemitate Eleeza-
beth.”
This is too much, thought Tremaine, and jump-
ing on his legs, fairly walked through a garden door,
to recover himself from a disgust no longer bearable.
Not so Mr. Beaumont, who rather enjoyed the
scene.
u I think your discrimination is perfectly just,”
cried he to Dr. Mc’Ginnis, and I own I come over
to you.”
“ I thought you would,” observed the Doctor,
looking at Lord Bellenden for approbation.
Lord BelTenden was however too just to accept of
such doubtful assistance, and moreover not very much
delighted with his auxiliary : he therefore begged
him to say candidly as far as he knew, whether Fre-
derick did or did not enact the abolition.
(( To say as far as I know upon any subject,” said
the historian with great dignity, u would be to say a
great deal.”
(( Then out with it all at once,” cried Sir Marma-
duke, filling his glass.
u Heaven forbid !” ejaculated Evelyn.
6i We shall never get at the point,” observed Lord
Bellenden.
72
TREMAINE.
66 I am quite satisfied,” exclaimed the traveller.
u So am I,” echoed Evelyn.
“ I confess I am not,” returned the Doctor, u for
we have jumped to a conclusion in defiance of all
method, which I hold to be treason against the laws
of true ratiocination.”
cc Do you say he abolished or not ?” cried the tra-
veller, with petulance.
6C He did, and he didn’t,” answered IVPGinnis.
u What’s coming now!” exclaimed Evelyn.
6( Gentlemen, I see ye are none of ye metaphysee-
cians,” observed M‘Ginnis.
u Metaphysicians or not,” said Lord Bellenden,
a we seem to have lost the King of Prussia, and as the
ladies have sent for us, we will finish the argument
some other time.”
CHAP. VIII.
WHICH MAY SUIT EITHER TOWN OR COUNTRY.
t( Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.”
SHAKSPEARE.
Lady Bellenden in her drawing-room, if she had
not so lively, had at least an easier task than her
Lord.
TREMAINE.
7 3
The three Baronets’ wives, vivacious as they had
been in defence of their legal rights before dinner,
sunk into dull and harmless quiescence, when those
rights were no longer disturbed ; and though Lady
Bluemantle made several, and sometimes successful
attempts, to excite their interest, by relating all that
had been said and done to her honour, as Mrs.
High Sheriff at the last assizes, and all that she ex-
pected at those which were impending, she re-
ceived nothing that could administer to her self-
love.
Mrs. Neville, departing from the character of hu-
mility she had imposed upon herself at dinner, re-
ceived all her advances, (which were many,) with
disdainful 'coldness, — and as to Lady Gertrude, it
was quite sufficient that she obeyed her mother’s
commands by remaining in the drawing-room. To
assist her in doing its honours, by endeavouring to
put her guests at ease with their hostess, or with
themselves, formed, as she thought, no part of the
compact. She therefore gave herself up as before,
entirely to Mrs. Neville, who, to do her justice,
returned all her amenities with a most exact recipro-
city of feeling. To no other female in the room,
not even to Miss Lyttleton or Georgina, did she
vouchsafe a single word. Nay, so strong was the
friendship of the two ladies, that a large window
forming a considerable recess in the room, these Ex-
clusives removed their chairs into it, in order the
better to enjoy their unexpected meeting ; which
VOL. II. E
74
TREMAINE.
seemed, they said, as if it had happened in a foreign
land.
In this emergency. Miss Lyttleton, after not only
gaping, but stretching two or three times, declared
they were all great bores; adding, that if she were
at home, she would go and amuse herself in the
stable.
“ That would be an excellent resource,” said Lady
Bellenden.
“ How is my Lord off for cattle ?” continued Miss
Lyttleton — “ Miss Evelyn, are you fond of riding ?”
“ Very,” answered Georgina.
“Do you hunt ?”
“ I am afraid you will despise me ; I have only
seen hounds throw off.”
“ That's something, however ! Do you like going
to the stables ?”
“ y er y much — for I have a favourite little
horse.”
“Why, I declare, my dear creature, you have
some soul in you — I could almost kiss you.”
The two ladies in the recess looked round at this,
and smiled at one another with ineffable superiority.
The conversation again languished, when Miss
Lyttleton, turning to a Miss Carvsfort, who sat
near, asked her to enliven them with a little
scandal.
Now, let none of our readers imagine that this
question was put, merely because the said Miss
Carysfort was an old maid. Forbid it all the vene-
TREMAINE.
73
ration I entertain for that sacred, and happy, be-
cause independent character that is to say, if
those to whom it belongs be rich. If poor, they
must do as other poor devils do ; fawn, and agree
with, and traduce, and invent, just as those who
feed them please — but not the more (I still assert,)
because they are old maids, than if they were wives
or widows. — No ; if at all at their ease, they are
more at their ease than others; and are infinitely
more courted, (particularly if they have not made
their wills,) than the best wife and mother on earth.
The cares of the world press light upon them ; they
have no anxiety about the health, character, or for-
tune of a tribe of children ; the humour in which a
husband may come home ; or the continuance of
their empire over his affections : they have nobody’s
taste to consult, overcome, or defer to, nor that sad
source of altercation, the questions, how they shall
pass the summer in the country — or how live, or
dress, or amuse themselves in Town. From all this
they are delivered. —If they are sick, a cloud of
rlephews and nieces present themselves hourly at
their doors, to enquire after their health : if well,
the said nephews and nieces all rejoice ; meantime
they generally have some decent old maid, like them-
selves, half companion, half servant, always at their
call at home, on whom they may vent all their little
vexations, so as to appear in ever-smiling good-
humour abroad.
You describe them so well, (I think I hear the
e 2
76
TREMAINE.
reader say,) that you must certainly be one of the
tribe yourself!
Of that, dear reader, I cannot satisfy thee ; only
if I am, I hope it is one of the happy sort I have
been describing. For the blessings I have set be-
fore thee, are not to be purchased without price.
There is a requisite for this perfect enjoyment, not
easily obtained, and often, when supposed to be
obtained, vibrating in a doubtful state between hope
and fear; nay sometimes, after being apparently
within our grasp, thrown voluntarily away, as it
should seem from very wantonness. Yet this requi-
site is very simple, with all its difficulties. It is
merely and solely, that the old maid should have
fairly, soberly, and deliberately, and bona fide, given
the matter up . It is inconceivable, from* not under-
standing this, to how many misrepresentations, and
ignorant calumnies, the poor old maid is subject.
For observe, I talk of a real, pure, and unsophisti-
cated old maid : none of your doubtful characters,
who are still hesitating and hankering, and put out
of their straight line, by every chance attention they
meet ; with whom, one squeeze of the hand, (unex-
pected as it may be,) is sure to demolish a six
months resolution. Woe to all such, for their happi-
ness is not arrived, and they drag on a miserable,
uncertain, between hawk and buzzard existence,
which subjects them (like the poor bat in the fable,
that was neither bird nor beast,) to a thousand
affronts. But once fairly fixed, in a determinate
TREMAINE.
77
capacity, witli a good well-engraved Mrs. on their
cards, their independence continues for the rest of
their lives, and their happiness is complete !
But is there no rule, no operation of nature, by
which the change may be both effected and dis-
covered? When a horse is aged, he is known by
his teeth; a cow by her horns; birds moult their
feathers ; and snakes cast their skins at given times.
Surely, if Buffon had considered this matter, ....
I tell you, Sir, there is no criterion ! — T have studied
the subject, and you may rest assured there is nothing
so indeterminate. It is in fact inconceivable how
the signs vary and fluctuate, and fade, and glimmer
again : how differently in point of time, the different
species of this extraordinary animal exhibit the deci-
sive marks of their crisis. In some auspicious sub-
jects, I have known it take place at forty, and they
have continued ever afterwards to a happy old age,
in constant respectability and good-humour. In
others the symptoms have appeared and disappeared,
and varied so as to puzzle the most sagacious ob-
server, from forty to sixty ; and I have even known
the phenomena fluctuate, in some instances till near
seventy, before the commotion has thoroughly sub-
sided. It all depends upon constitution.
Now, whether in Miss Carysfort’s instance, these
phenomena had been protracted in an unusual
degree; that is, whether at sixty, rebellion still con-
tinued, in other words, whether she had not given
the matter up ; or whether the devil has any share in
e 3
78
TREMAINE.
colouring our tempers at our births; it is certain that
long before any of the symptoms I have been describ-
ing began to appear, I may say even in her youth,
this lady was remarkable for that superiority of pru-
dence and good conduct, which could never endure
any thing in others that was less correct than her
own standard. Hence she early attained to that
scrutinizing, examining habit, which eventually
erected her into a judge of the actions of all her
acquaintance, or rather of all the world, whether her
acquaintance or not. Her prudence and her virtue
were so great, that she severely felt all the miseries,
and indeed every thing disadvantageous in the lot of
humanity, so as to be constantly deploring them
aloud, to all who would listen to her; and it must
be owned, that not only she had many willing audi-
tors, but would even search them out with persever-
ing industry, if they failed to offer of themselves. It
was hence that when either public or private misfor-
tunes were most frequent, she was most abroad; and
during a state of doubt as to the reputation of any of
her friends, so eager was she to clear the innocence
of the unhappy parties, by all proper enquiries and
communications, that it was observed, her carriage
and horses never had so little rest, as upon such oc-
casions. It is true, the scrutiny often ended in the
contrary of what she hoped, and developed guilt,
instead of the exculpation she sought after; but sus-
pense, (a state nobody can bear) was put an end to,
and at any rate she had taken care that her friends
TREMAINE. 79
•should not go without justice, for want of the affair
being properly canvassed.
Such was the correct and amiable being to whom,
in the want of other amusement, Miss Lyttleton
directed the important request, to enliven them with
a little scandal.
It was in vain the good Lady Bellenden protested
against the effects of such a mode of enlivening,
directed as she knew it was, to such a source.
“ Why, my dear Madam,” replied Miss Lyttle-
ton, ee what can we possibly do ? Lady Gertrude
there, though she is your daughter and I am your
guest, does not think me fit to speak to ; and Mrs.
Neville never talks till the gentlemen come up ; or if
she does, about nothing but laces, which I don’t
•understand; or what she is doing at the Castle,
which I don’t care a whistle about.”
Both the exclusives turned their heads round at this
and exchanged smiles, and Mrs. Neville shrugged up
her shoulders ; but both remained otherwise unmoved.
“ You have a companion near you,” said Lady
Bellenden, looking at Georgina, u who perhaps
might enliven you, were you to try.”
66 Oh dear no ! I am told she is very accomplished,
which I am not; and besides is a great deal too
good; for she would not let me abuse that wretch
Tremaine just now; and when I asked her whether
she did not like talking of the fellows, she said no !
which I believe was a great lie ; and therefore I say
again, Miss Carysfort, do give us a little scandal.”
E 4:
80
TREMAINE
CHAP. IX.
A STORY.
“ A very honest woman, but something given to lie, which
“ Woman should not do, but in the way of honesty.”
SHAKSPEARE.
Miss Carysfort protested with an assumed
laugh, that she did not know why she applied to her
for scandal, as she made it a rule never to talk of any
thing till she had ascertained its truth : and that
while so many unhappy things were passing in the
world, there was no occasion she thought for what
was called scandal.
Lady Bellenden asked with some interest whether
she alluded to any thing particular ; in which the
good Countess verified a remark that has sometimes
been made, that so prone are even the best and
wisest natures to busy themselves with the history of
other people, that they listen to the relation in spite
of even pre-determined caution against the relator.
Had Lady Bellenden for a single moment recollected
her own opinions of Miss Carysfort, — whom, from her
sense of the dangerous character of a mere gossip,
much more of an ill-natured one, she never treated
TREMAINE.
81
as of any authority, — she would not have given
opportunity to her tongue, by the question. But the
question was out, and necessarily answered.
44 I am unwilling to say any thing,” said Miss
Carysfort, 44 even though all the word is full of it,
that concerns so near a friend of Miss Lyttleton’s as
Mrs. C ”
44 Dear me, what of her ?” asked Miss Lyttleton ;
44 why I had a letter from her this morning.”
The intimation of Miss Carysfort roused the atten-
tion of all the ladies, and among them of Mrs.
Neville herself, who was also particularly acquainted
with Mrs. C , a sort of friendship, or rather
civil intercourse existing between them, and she
actually turned from the fair Gertrude to listen.
But the fair Gertrude retained all her sangfroid , and
appeared totally unmoved about a person, whom she
had met indeed in society, but not in that society
where alone she thought it of consequence to meet
any body.
44 You amaze me,” cried Miss Lyttleton ; 44 do pray
say what has happened.”
44 Only what happens too often,” replied Miss
Carysfort, 44 in other families besides Mrs. C — — ’s ;
a discovery which has already ended in a separation,
and must in a divorce !”
44 Nay that’s quite impossible,” said Miss Lyttle-
ton, 44 for her letter of this morning is dated from
Dalemain, where Mr. C ■■■■■■ is at home with
her.”
82
TREMAINE.
“ I wish it may be so,” replied Miss Carysfort.
Lady Bellenden immediately pronounced that the
proof was demonstrative, and that Miss Carysfort
must have been misinformed.
u I seldom am,” returned that lady, u and at any
rate have had the story with so many particulars,
there must be something in it.”
u Oh ! do pray let us have it,” cried Lyttleton —
u for as I am sure it is all a wicked lie, it will be
such fun to tell it again to Mrs. C .”
u Had we not better drop it?” said Lady Bel-
lenden.
u Oh ! not for the world,” exclaimed Miss Lyttle-
ton — u do pray go on.”
Miss Carysfort however rather drew back, till all
the ladies requesting to hear the report, and all add-
ing they should entirely disbelieve it, she upon that
condition (which she said would render it perfectly
harmless,) related her news with all its accompanying
circumstances.
It was a round unvarnished tale, amounting to
neither more nor less than this — that Mr. C
having returned unexpectedly in the night from
Newmarket, where it was supposed he was to have
remained some days, went softly to his chamber;
that to his astonishment he found on his own chair
a leathern pair of those parts of dress, which delicacy,
or indelicacy (I know not which) always forbids us
to name, and which properly belong to the male sex ;
that alarmed at this, he looked farther, and by the
TREMAINE.
S3
light of the lamp, beheld a head on his pillow which
certainly he thought had no business there ; that he
did not make out to whom it belonged, but that it
was a short cropt head without a night-cap ; finally,
that both Mrs. C — and her partner, were locked
in sleep.
66 And what happened ?” cried Miss Lyttleton,
struggling with the greatest difficulty against a burst
of laughter.
“ Why Mr. C- — ’s first impulse,” said Miss
Carysfort, “ was to use his pistols, but he contented
himself with seizing a horsewhip he had in the room,
and laid it most unmercifully both on Mrs. C
and her paramour, till the servants, alarmed at their
cries, rescued them.” —
Here Miss Lyttleton could no longer contain, and
almost falling on the floor in a convulsion of laughter,
exclaimed, u Oh! my dear Cary, my dear Lady
Bellenden — never in this world was any thing so
good ! — my poor friend ! and my poor self to be so
horse whipt! — what must I do to that savage C ?
the whipping was mine, the cropt head was mine, and
the culottes were mine; — l went unexpectedly to
stay all night, and Mrs. C being alone, slept
with her ; I shall absolutely die of the conceit.”
Here fits of laughter stopt her, and she could not
proceed. The laughter indeed was catching, for
none of the ladies could any longer resist, save only
the exclusive in the window, (who however was seen
to smile) and Miss Carysfort herself, who seemed
84
TREMAINE.
rather disconcerted at the total overthrow of her
story, which she endeavoured indeed to set up again,
by observing that it was at least strange, if not in-
credible, that a young lady should wear culottes, and
those culottes buckskins — for as to the fact of their
being found as she had described, she would pledge
her existence for its truth.
Miss Lyttleton assured her that in this she was
perfectly correct, and that it was no secret in the
Dalemain Hunt, to which she belonged ; adding
that she never took a long journey on horseback, as
she had on the day in question, without the comfort
of that most useful apparatus.
After the ridicule had a little subsided, Lady Bel-
lenden observed gravely, that it was almost too bad
for laughter ; for that it was owing solely to the for-
tunate circumstance of Miss Lyttleton’s being her
guest at the same time with Miss Carysfort, that the
reputation of a very worthy woman had not been
blasted.
The gentlemen now all came flocking in, and Mr.
Beaumont begged to be informed of the cause of
the peals they had heard, even in the dining-room.
fiC You must ask Miss Lyttleton,” answered Lady
Gertrude ; “ I am sure you cannot tax me with any
thing so hoydenish,”
“ And yet I have seen you laugh, Lady Gertrude.”
“ In other company then,” replied the lady.
Miss Lyttleton had now made all the gentlemen
acquainted with what she emphatically called her
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85
anecdote, and was relating to Evelyn the danger she
had been in of being horsewhipt.
<c This comes,” observed the Doctor gravely, (e of
women’s wearing the breeches a remark not at
all agreeable to Mr. Placid, who conceiving it level-
led at him, instantly turned away.
Lady Gertrude now stretching her fair neck, far,
(very far for her,) out of the window in which she
had remained hitherto without moving, Miss Lyttle-
ton, who not worshipping at the shrine of the exclu-
sives, did not, to use her own language, care a farthing
for them, came up to her, and said she was glad she
had at last found something worth looking at.
“ Pray what can it be, my dear ?” said Miss Lyttle-
ton, with a familiarity, which certainly gave no plea-
sure to the dignified lady to whom it was addressed.
She indeed seemed struck with horror at the address
itself, and immediately prepared to change her seat.
u Oh ! don’t trouble yourself,” continued her care-
less companion, “ I assure you though I bark, I don’t
bite, and as it shocks you so much, 1 will even promise
not to call you my dearagain. Nay, pray don’t move,
I am not going to stay ; I only wanted to see what
could possibly have the honour of being looked at so
earnestly ; — well ! I declare if there is not that wretch
Tremaine, walking by himself! he has surely been
under the window, all the time you have been in it.
— oh ! ho ! now the secret’s out.”
Lady Gertrude’s countenance began absolutely to
shew some emotion, and she even observed with dis-
86
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pleasure, that to say so, was at least a liberty she
would not have taken with Miss Lyttleton.
Miss Lyttleton replied that she saw no liberty in
it, as it was a mere observation on a fact.
Lady Gertrude said she might be wrong as to her
fact.
“ Well, perhaps I am, for I observed him to-day,
and he cut you cruelly.”
Lady Gertrude looked still more horrified as the
Amazon afterwards boastingly said, yet she conti-
nued tauntingly, 6( well now, I wonder what can
make him run away from your ladyship ! — such a
person as me I know he hates, and with some rea-
son, for I once forgot myself so far as to lay my
whip across his high mightyness’s shoulders — but
such a person as your ladyship would suit him to a
T ; — indeed I think you are quite formed for one
another.”
At that moment, Tremaine, who had endeavoured
to walk off his disgusts in the cool of the evening,
had re-entered the drawing-room, so as to receive
these last words in his ear. Lady Gertrude had
sense enough to feel their satire, and to perceive that
the satire was intended — but as she also knew that
satire was not her fort, she had the prudence not to
reply ; but with piteous looks, after searching for
Mrs. Neville in vain, besought the protection of Mr.
Beaumont. This, (though he had secretly enjoyed
the rencontre,) to a lady of her quality, he could not
refuse, and therefore endeavoured to create a diver-
TREMAINE.
87
sion in her favour, by engaging the Amazon him-
self.
“You do Mr. Tremaine a great deal of honour,”
said he, looking at him ; “ I wish he but knew how
high he stands in your opinion.”
“ Perhaps he would not thank me,” answered the
lady, (perceiving, but not minding Tremaine) “nor
you either, indeed, for I think you both very much
alike.”
Mr. Beaumont bowed.
“ For both of you,” continued Miss Lyttleton,
“are dandies, only a little old; and as Lady Ger-
trude here is a dandy of the first order, I think
either of you would do for her.”
Tremaine reddened with the deepest disgust ; but
the huntress went on — “ All three indeed are very
refined, and very solemn, and very exclusive, and
all that ; and though I declare, (looking closer at
Mr. Beaumont,) you are grown quite bald, (dear
me ! only see how bald !) I arn sure Lady Ger-
trude quite prefers you to all the company, particu-
larly as Mr. Tremaine has cut her.”
The awkward looks of both the male, and the
female exclusives, at this speech, were diverting to
the bye-standers, and even to Evelyn and Georgina,
though the latter, upon a distant sopha, could but
just make it out. She however, though all idea of the
fulfilment of Lady Bellenden’s wish had been long
dispelled, had natural-good breeding enough to re-
frain from even looking at Lady Gertrude, much
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TREMAINE.
more from shewing the impression which this rattle
had made upon her.
Lady Gertrude had nothing left for it but to
change her place, and seek a new companion, and a
seat on Georgina’s sopha being vacant, she took re-
fuge there, followed by Beaumont.
“ There goes refinement both male and female,”
cried Miss Lyttleton aloud ; “ I declare I have put
it quite to flight ; I never enjoyed drawing a badger
more. Well now ! is it not strange that people
place their happiness in giving themselves airs,
when it always requires the consent of others to let
them, and if one does not chuse it, they never can
succeed.”
u More in that than at first sight appears,” said
Evelyn, (a)
C( For heaven’s sake let us go,” cried Tremaine.
“ Your carriage is not ready,” answered Evelyn
with most provoking patience.
Mr. Horton now crossing the Amazon, she imme-
diately exclaimed, u Here comes another piece of
refinement in his way!”
(«) Were it possible to suspect the Amazon of reading Lord
Clarendon’s History, we should think she had had her eye on the
following passage.
“ Lord Falkland used to say that, for keeping of state, there must
“ go two to it ; for let the proudest, or most formal man resolve to
“ keep what distance he will towards others, a bold and confident
“ man instantly demolishes that whole machine, and gets within
“ him, and even obliges him to his own laws of conversation.”
TREMAINE. 89
Mr. Horton looked alarmed. “Only a little se-
cond-hand,” added the lady.
Mr. Horton looked sulky. “ Nay, don’t be
angry,” proceeded she, “ for I protest you are so-
lemn enough, and look wise enough for Mr. Tre-
maine, and are quite self-sufficient enough for a
dandy yourself.”
“This is insupportable,” cried Tremaine to Eve-
lyn — “ I implore you to come away.”
“ Let us see how solemnity makes it out against
giddy brain,” answered his friend.
Solemnity thought it most prudent to prepare for
retreat, observing with as much humility as he could
infuse into his manner, that he never pretended to
dispute with ladies.
“ There you are right, my good fellow,” replied
Miss Lyttleton ; “ for, depend upon it, they would
beat you.”
Mr. Horton only answered with a would-be con-
temptuous, and really silly smile, and turned to
avoid her.
“ I should like, however,” continued she, pur-
suing him, “ to hear how you make it out with gen-
tlemen ; it must be vastly edifying — suppose you
were to begin now with your brother dandy there,
(looking at Mr. Beaumont,) or Mr. Tremaine ; I
think they are exactly suited to meet you.”
Had the lady studied the whole range of ill-nature,
(which however was not her intention,) she could
not have hit harder than she did upon this occasion*
90
TREMAINE.
For Mr. Horton was a person with whom it flattered
neither of the gentlemen to be compared. He was
a man of large stature, and heavy, ungraceful limbs ;
with what is called a bull head, designed as it
should seem by nature for that of a downright
English yeoman ; but being born to a respectable
fortune, he affected the elegant among his brother
squires; more eminent however in the club-house
in St. James’s Street, or the subscription room at
York, than for knowledge of the stable, or activity
in the field. At the one place, when in Town, and
at the other, when in the country, he was to be seen
the whole day long, concealing his dearth of ideas
under a most impervious solemnity of countenance.
This latter has been known to have exhibited itself
for three hours together at the window in St. James’s
Street, in the apparent occupation of observing the
passengers that flitted before it ; and, indeed, as the
eyes were open the whole time, there seemed to be
no reasonable foundation for supposing the con-
trary.
The first object of this gentleman’s ambition was
to be a member of White’s, in which he had failed ;
and the second was to imitate Mr. Beaumont — in
which he certainly had not succeeded : and as Mr.
Beaumont felt his reputation cruelly invaded, even
by the attempt of such a person to imitate him, and
Tremaine looked down upon him for his total want
of cultivation, this comparison between them by the
Amazon made a deep incision in the pride of
both.
TREMAINE.
91
“ Come/’ said the lady, “ why don’t you begin ?
I assure you it will do you a great deal of good, and
bring you into fashion.”
u Bring me into fashion !” exclaimed Horton,
with a mortified smile.
“ Yes ! Mr. Beaumont brings any body into
fashion he pleases ; only they say he is going a little
out of fashion himself.”
Here Mr. Beaumont, who was not so absorbed
with Lady Gertrude as to have escaped the conver-
sation, was observed for the first time in his life to
look actually disconcerted.
u Giddy brain against the field !” said Evelyn to
Tremaine.
To the latter gentleman the storm seemed now
coming round. u Pray, Mr. Tremaine,” said the
lady, u may I ask how you like your retirement ?”
“ Far better, Madam,” replied he, looking at her
with meaning, “ than bad company.’’
cc Oh ! your most obedient,” returned the lady ;
u that I see was levelled at me and perceiving
Lady Gertrude looked pleased, she went on — u I’m
glad to have given you an opportunity of restoring
yourself by it to my Lady Gertrude’s good graces. —
To say truth, you have not been even commonly
civil to her, though she is at home ; — though indeed
I may be wrong, for as you are both of you Ex-
clusives, who are above all common comprehension,
you may have been very attentive to one another for
all that.”
92
TREMAINE.
Lady Gertrude coloured, and Tremaine bowing
with great dryness, asked her if she had any more
commands for him.
<c None in particular,” she replied ; iC only if you
will help Miss Carysfort to make out why you cut
Lady Gertrude and Mrs. Neville before dinner —
you, who used to be so intimate with them both, you
will relieve that good lady from considerable anxiety.
She has been talking about it ever since.”
<c Talking about it!” cried Tremaine, with evi-
dent disgust.
“ Yes ! she will have it that either Lady Gertrude
or Miss Neville refused you, or that you refused
them, she does not know which, before you went
out of Town, and that that was the reason you shut
yourself up. Now, I follow the old maxim, and
never believe above half what the world says ; so I
think it can only have been one of the two ladies
mentioned ; but now you are both here, it is quite
convenient, and you’ll make Miss Carysfort quite
happy, I am sure, if you’ll tell her ; she’ll be de-
lighted at such an opportunity of getting at it from
authority.”
The effrontery of this speech seemed to affect both
the parties concerned. Lady Gertrude coloured
deep red — then turned white — and gave evident signs
of resentment. For want of something else, how-
ever, she fell to pulling a rose from her bosom, and
tore it all to pieces ; while Tremaine, who hated
Miss Carysfort’s mischievous meddling, so as to
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93
shudder at her very name, shewed palpable marks of
alarm, as well as of anger, from which he was not
relieved even by the secession of his persecutrix, who
went only as she said to bring Miss Carysfort to
him.
The Lady Gertrude did not feel much happier.
All exclusive as she was, having taken refuge with
Georgina, she could not help condescending to
notice her with a few words. Indeed it was ne-
cessary to relieve herself, and divert the attention of
others from the effects of the Amazon’s attack, by
appearing engaged. «
“ What an odious, bold, impudent person !”
said Lady Gertrude — “ don’t you think so. Miss
Evelyn?”
“ I scarce know her,” answered Georgina, “ but
she seems to have great spirits.”
“ Horribly great, indeed,” returned Lady Ger-
trude; “and I hate spirits — they are so vulgar.”
“Yet they seem natural in her,” replied Geor-
gina.
“ Oh ! dear yes ! but not the less vulgar on that
account.” — Then feeling a little relieved at her ab-
sence, she added — “ My aunt, the Duchess, says,
there is nothing marks the difference between a real
gentlewoman and a common person so much as what
are called spirits; and I am sure if she were to see
this person, she would only be confirmed in her
opinion.”
94
TREMAINE.
“ Country girls, perhaps, think themselves privi-
leged,” said Georgina.
“ Girl ! do you call her,” observed her compa-
nion ; “ why she is thirty at least.”
“ And the men call her Jack,” added Mr. Beau-
mont.
“Yet Mrs. Neville,” remarked Georgina, “ thinks
there is no harm in her.”
“ That is very extraordinary,” said Lady Ger-
trude, “ for she always speaks of her to me with the
utmost contempt.”
Georgina, who was the most single-hearted crea-
ture alive, wondered at this ; not adverting to the
possibility of even a very great lady’s accommodating
herself to the tone of any companion she might wish
to please ; and not aware that, although Mrs. Ne-
ville revelled in wealth, yet she was still very far
removed from that situation among the haute
noblesse, that enviable point at the very head of
Fashion, which she affected, and which it was her
fondest ambition to reach.
Now, Lady Gertrude, had she been even more
negative in character than she was, yet, from her
father’s rank, and still more from the reflected splen-
dour of the Duchess her aunt, was always a person
of the very first monde ; and from being an acknow-
ledged Exclusive, the mere appearance of her inti-
macy, irradiated with honour all to whom such a
thing was of consequence. I say appearance, be-
cause for the reality, few, and least of all, Mrs
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95
Neville, cared in the smallest degree. All this how-
ever may serve to explain the different modes, both
of talking and acting towards Miss Lyttleton and
Georgina, which belonged to Mrs. Neville, when
Lady Gertrude was or was not present. In point
of fact, this distinguished lady had too much cha-
racter herself, to be a genuine Exclusive, and only
put it on when it suited the object of ambition
immediately before her. For various were her ob-
jects, and she could fly from one to the other with a
versatility and talent which shewed her made for
greater things, and only wanting the ingredients of
sincerity and goodness, to render her a very power-
ful woman.
CHAP. X.
MANAGEMENT.
“ Will you have me, Lady ?
“ No, my Lord, unless I might have another for working days.
“ Your Grace is too costly to wear every day.”
SHAKSPEARE.
This ability in every thing that engaged her at-
tention, public or private, plunged Mrs. Neville in
perpetual business ; and whether the management
of an estate, or the management of an election, the
getting off a house, or the getting off a daughter,
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was concerned, her industry, vigilance, and powers
of acting were first-rate. As she had several
daughters, two of them marriageable, the latter sub-
ject had begun to be a very serious concern to her,
especially as she had been known to say, that ma-
nagement only was required to make any two per-
sons marry, as their friends might chuse. From her
mode of setting about this herself, we might have
suspected her of taking the hint from the stratagem
which brought Benedict and Beatrice together, and
of thinking with Hero and Ursula.
“ Of this matter
“ Is little Cupid’s crafty arrow made,
“ That only wounds by hearsay.”
But this supposition one thing forbade ; for Mrs.
Neville was personally much too occupied with the
world itself to study it in Shakspeare.
Be this as it may, there was more foundation for
what the Lyttleton had blurted out upon the sur-
mise of Miss Carysfort, than usually belonged to
Miss Carysfort’s surmises. — For although Tremaine
had not offered himself to Miss Neville, she had
been offered to him, and that without either party
knowing any thing about the matter. If any young
woman of spirit and condition think this impossible,
let her only examine the world a little farther than
its outside, and she may find the thing not only per-
fectly feasible, but of every day practice. Possibly
she may discover, that without knowing it, it may
TREMAINE.
97
even have been her own case, and that while mamma
has appeared occupied with her cards, and has left her
seemingly to herself, she has been fairly brought to
market, and bought or rejected as fortune decided.
What manoeuvring has not sometimes taken
place (not by the poor honest girl, but) by the
more wary mamma, that the two parties should sit
by one another, dance with one another, and say
pretty things of one another, so as eventually to
think well of one another ; and yet all appear the
most unpremeditated natural thing in the world!
Just so was it for the best part of a whole spring,
between Tremaine and the eldest Miss Neville,
under the guidance of Miss Neville’s mamma. Ne-
ville House, as it was called, was at least among the
gayest in town. The company was often mixed,
but it was generally good. What opulence could
supply was there to be found ; the young people
were young people, and Miss Neville was not only
particularly beautiful, but dressed well. It was at
court, and when presented, that Tremaine was
struck, to the full extent of whatever impression
was made ; for certainly on acquaintance it never
became deeper. Very handsome features, and a
very graceful courtesy caught his eye, and a com-
pliment upon her manner and countenance by the
queen, (herself an admirable judge) to the delight-
ed mother, caught his ear. He dined that day at
Neville House. In the evening there was a private
concert, and Tremaine pronounced Miss Neville’s
VOL. II. F
98
TREMAINE.
finger to be, as it was, one of the best in London.
The attentions of Tremaine never went farther —
but they went quite far enough for Mrs. Neville,
aided by the before-mentioned talent of manage-
ment , to found upon them very strong hopes of a
great establishment for her daughter.
This word establishment is of infinitely more
force in the English language, than perhaps its dic-
tionaries are aware of. Its importance is of such a
nature, and brought so home to the feelings of the
parent as well as of the child, that it is inconceiv-
able what a number of little moral duties, and
points of delicacy, are swallowed up and lost in its
contemplation. It is indeed no where to be found
in the Gospel ; but like the great virtue there pa-
negyrized, it seems to cover a multitude of sins.
So Mrs. Neville thought, when she bent the force
of her genius to bring establishment about, in favour
of her daughter, at the expense of Tremaine.
She knew there would be difficulties on both
sides, the first of which was a difference in respect
of age ; — but this with a daughter of her bringing
up she knew also would weigh little in comparison
with the beautiful houses, equipages, clothes, and
pin money, which the gentleman could bestow.
Strange to say, the chief difficulty was with the
gentleman himself, who often talked of the folly,
not to say immorality, of very unequal matches of
this sort. To remedy this, Mrs. Neville, with no
view to any particular alliance, keeping it indeed
TREMAINE.
99
religiously out of sight, and as if quite accidentally,
would gravely debate the matter with him, and
prove, theoretically, how much greater chance for
happiness there was when a young girl gave herself
to the guidance and protection of a man who knew
the world, was beyond the hey-day of passion, and
who would therefore look for all his pleasures at
home ; than with a youth, perhaps the sport of
every whim, likely to change in his feelings, to neg-
lect, perhaps abandon his wife. On such occa-
sions Mrs. Neville, after moralizing very prettily,
w'ould support theory by example, and would bring
out, carelessly, as if just recollecting it, and perhaps
after having mentioned a match or two of unequal
ages between others: u Now there are my daughters,
particularly Miss Neville ; it is extraordinary,
young as they are, how they see things as I do —
I absolutely believe, nay I am quite sure of it,
had I never endeavoured to lead them on this
subject, so important to a mother, their own in-
nate taste would induce them to prefer men full
twenty years older than themselves : they say they
are so much more agreeable, so much less self-
sufficient.” And then this skilful lady, after
well using the tact of which she was mistress, would
add, M indeed, to own the truth to you, Mr. Tre-
maine, though it is a matter of too much delicacy
even to glance at, if it were not for our very old
acquaintance, I should not wish, with my daugh-
ter’s feelings, and after what I have actually heard
100
TREMAINE.
her say of you , (not to me, but to her com-
panions, young people like herself,) I should not,
I say, — wish — that is, it is just possible it might
be not quite so prudent — and here she would
stop in so pretty a confusion, that her daughter her-
self, avowing her sentiments, could scarcely have
carried it better.
Notwithstanding the very old acquaintance al-
luded to, Tremaine in fact knew very little of the
lady making the allusion, more than that she was
a very great lady, with a very fine countenance,
and immense fortune. She passed much of her
time in the world, yet seemed to give all her atten-
tion to the direction of a large family, and all
without the least gtain upon her virtue. He there-
fore felt pleased und flattered by this sort of confi-
dence, and being himself open as day, had not,
with all his disgusts, the least suspicion that Mrs.
Neville was angling for him in favour of her
daughter, as Hero in the passage above adverted to
angled for Beatrice in favour of Benedick. He
would therefore reply, as perhaps the lady wished,
and according as he replied, she would inform him
more particularly of what Miss Neville had said ;
how she had praised his fine air, his manners, his
conversation, and had even sometimes added she
would prefer dancing with him to the youngest man
in the room.
Wiser, and even older men than Tremaine, have
been caught with such latent, such well-managed
TREMAINE.
101
flattery — and the spell was wound up when this
Urganda added, as she sometimes would, (if after
consukLag the tact that has been mentioned she
found sne was safe,) ei In short, my dear Sir, though
I should grieve to see less of you in a house which
you are pleased to say is agreeable to your taste,
and much as I should shudder to compromise my
daughter’s delicacy, yet I am sure you will allow
for a parent’s anxiety, and not expose, me, when I
say, that it perhaps would be best for the happi-
ness of both parties, if you saw less of Miss
Neville than you do; — of hers, for the reasons I
have with such unaccountable boldness ventured
to mention ; of yours, in order to spare a man of
honour the pain of thinking he had even uninten-
tionally made an innocent young person unhappy.”
Then, protesting she was surprised at her own
courage in going so far, and that he was the only
man alive with whom she could be thus explicit,
she would break up the conference, and if upon his
attempting to make explanations she found they
were not likely to be as precise as she wished, she
would say with a laughing air of generosity , i( Nay, I
interdict all sudden resolutions; — with your
notions, it cannot be : my confidence has been
drawn from me solely by a sense of your honour,
and I must myself take care that to that honour
no improper sacrifice on your part is offered.”
It required all, and more than all Tremaine’s
experience in the world, to be indifferent to a mother
f 3
102
TREMAINE.
and daughter who thought so favourably of him. He
did not exactly say with Benedick, “ Love me! why
it must be requited,” and 66 the world must be
peopled;” but he began to take himself seriously to
task. u If,” said he, <c this good mother, confiding in
my honour, commits her delicacy so far, shall I not
do wrong if I continue these visits? On the other
hand, is not marriage the natural and honourable
state of man? Ought I to retire without ascertaining
whether I may not myself love ?” To this, however,
he added another very important question, whether
he had not, all his life, been disappointed whenever
he came to this point of self-examination ?
In truth, the old fault, so often mentioned, the
natural fastidiousness, not to say waywardness of
» Tremaine, having been his enemy through life in
lighter things, could not fail of influencing his fate on
this most important part of a man’s conduct. With a
heart originally warm, liberal, and tender too, his
disposition towards marriage was not merely natural,
but a principle. Yet he had reached an age not far
off forty, without even an engagement.
A close self-examination, therefore, in regard to
Miss Neville, became absolutely necessary to this
man of honour as well as of refinement ; and the
result was, that he resolved not to discontinue his
visits, but strictly to scrutinize her conduct, and his
own heart.
All this while, the poor girl was totally uncon-
scious of what was passing ; and though her mother
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103
had acquainted her how struck Tremaine had been
with her grace and retinue at court, she could not
make out why, according to mamma’s directions, the
moment he appeared, all her spirits, of which she
bad a great exuberance, were to be repressed, and
why at eighteen she was to assume the manners of
a woman of thirty.
The hints of the mother were thrown away upon
the honest girl, who soon fell into a thousand scrapes,
of which she was totally unconscious. Naturally
graceful, and with even pensive features when not
laughing, she certainly appeared best to the view of
a refined critic when curbed by restraint; and under
the eye of majesty she had seemed particularly
pleasing to the scrutiny of Tremaine. But left to
herself, the Madona w as gone — her spirits ran away
with her, and she was only not a hoyden, because she
was not born in that rank where hoydenism is not
thought a crime.
This could not long be concealed, and Tremaine
began to shudder, when dancing with her at a very
select ball, she not only gave the Highland fling
with something very like violence, but actually turned
both himself and others in the dance, two or three
times oftener than the dance required.
The very little inclination of Tremaine, not even
amounting to penchant, and excited solely by the
appeal made by the mother to his feelings, began to
give way. It is impossible, said he to himself, that
this girl can prefer a man twenty years beyond her
f 4
m
TREMAINE.
in age : there must be some mistake. In this frame
of mind, calling suddenly at Neville House when
mamma was out, he found her at high romps with
her sister and a cousin, a young Cantab, little more
than her own age.
The dreadful sounds of u Tom, be quiet,” alarmed
him on the stairs, and his fear was completed when
entering the drawing-room he found his Sophonisba
heated with play, holding up the fragments of Tom’s
cravat, in noisy triumph, while her own dress ex-
hibited indubitable signs that the familiarity of cou-
sins had gone as far as it legitimately might.
The consequence was, that though too just to ac-
cuse a young person of the faults of her mother, he
viewed the mother herself with interminable disgust;
and seeing at once the reality of her character, all
intimacy ceased.
TREMAINE.
105
CHAP. xr.
FEMALE REFINEMENT.
£C Octavia is of a cold and still conversation.”
“ She shews a body rather than a life.”
SHAKSPEARE.
And now for the fair Gertrude ! Was that sur-
mise of the Carysfort also founded ? — Strange to say,
more so than at first sight appeared. For though no
two creatures were less alike than Lady Bellenden
and Mrs. Neville, or than the fair beings whom they
owned as daughters, the attention of Mr. Tremaine
had been excited by the dignified Exclusive, in at
least as great a degree as by the playful Neville.
Lest the reader however should imagine that Mr.
Tremaine was a mere man of whim, and endowed
with neither penetration nor consistency, let us ap-
prise him, as we ought, that he was honest, and true
to his tastes. He had no objection, perhaps he even
required a liveliness of character to charm him, but
he required still more — a fond ; a dignity, and even
gravity of character, in all things where principle or
feeling was concerned. If his interest about Miss
Neville, (whatever it was) seem to contradict this,
f 5
106
TREMAINE.
let it be recollected that she had been misrepresented
to him, and that he soon discovered his mistake :
whereas the Lady Gertrude awed the sense in all the
pride and power of a retired and lofty manner, which,
even if not all her own, seemed to be so naturally
inherited from her aunt, (who was the very queen of
correctness as well as fashion,) that the sceptre of the
Duchess, by the easiest of all transitions, appeared to
devolve as of course, upon the imitative niece. When
Tremaine therefore first saw her, he was inclined to
approve, because all he lived with and most respected
approved also. He however knew nothing of her real
character, and he was checked at first, fully as much
by his feeling in regard to their disparity of years, as
his uncertainty of the feeling of the family on their
disparity of rank.
The latter fear was soon set at rest ; for indepen-
dent of the plain character of Lord Bellenden, and
the high antiquity of his own family, in which there
had been titles long before Lord Bellenden’s was
ennobled, the attentions of the Duchess convinced
him that one of her own daughters, much more her
niece, would not be thought too good for a gentle-
man, who, though a commoner, was of ancient, and
even noble descent, was most fashionably received,
and was master of twenty thousand a-year.
The beautiful and prudent Gertrude seemed to
be of the same opinion, and intimated it by all the
means to which an Exclusive could condescend.
For not only she was always unbent when he ad-
TREMAINE,
107
dressed her, but she shewed a marked pleasure when
he did so— allowed him to present his arm at the
Opera, when no other commoner could obtain that
favour, and pronounced him such supreme bon ton ,
that at Almack’s, notwithstanding his disinclination
to dancing, he was often forced into her service,
spite of that disinclination.
She went even farther, for she praised his political
conduct, wondered he did not speak oftener in Par-
liament, and was several times known to have said,
in reality, in regard to disparity of age, that which
in the instance of the poor Neville had been only
said for her.
All this from a finished Exclusive ! How many
men have been caught with baits of less price ! In
truth, the Lady Gertrude, though she viewed esta-
blishment as seriously as her aunt would have her,
was in this instance as sincere in respect to love itself,
as her powers of loving would let her !
Cannot then an Exclusive love ? — Yes ! in the
second instance, but in the first, no one but herself:
and just so far could the Lady Gertrude have loved
Tremaine, if Tremaine had loved the Lady Ger-
trude. And why did he not ?
Simply because, with an imposing appearance of
dignity, her’s was of that nature to depend entirely
upon the will and pleasure of others. In truth it
was factitious, and had nothing real about it. If
homage were offered, well ; if refused, real dignity
never could be shewn, for it did not exist. Thus,
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TREMAINE.
though there was always so much propriety of beha-
viour in her, that impropriety seemed impossible,
yet Nature in making her, seemed to have forgotten
one of her usual gifts on those occasions, and sent
her into the world without a heart. Lastly, with a
certain degree of merit, amounting to respectability,
in all the modern accomplishments as they are called,
that is to say, in music, dancing, painting, fancy-
work, and filligree work, and to a certain degree in
the languages in fashion, the Lady Gertrude was at
best but superficial, and fell sometimes into errors
which discovered not merely a want of feeling, but
the very grossest ignorance.
In short, had the Lady Gertrude lived when Pope
wrote his satire on women, it might have been said
that it was from her outline he filled his canvass with
the well-known portrait of Chloe.
“ Yet Chloe sure was form’d without a spot,
“ Nature in her then err’d not, but forgot.
“ With every pleasing, every prudent part,
“ Say what can Chloe want ? — She wants a heart.
“ She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought,
“ But never, never reach’d one gen’rous thought.
“ Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour,
“ .Content to dwell in decencies for ever.
“ So very reasonable, so unmoved,
“ As never yet to love — or to be loved.”
Was this a wife for Tremaine ? With all his de-
fects, (and we have shewn that he had many) w T e
hope not.
The rest of this historiette is short — for it was not
TREMAINE.
109
possible for a person, in reality so little gifted, long
to disguise that reality to the fault-finding eye of
such an Attentif (for observe, reader, we do not call
him lover,) as our man of refinement.
His first alarm was for her heart, at a tragedy,
and began by his observing her not merely unmoved,
but in full flirtation with Mr. Beaumont, while
“ Belvidera poured her soul in love.”
Willing to attribute this merely to accident, he
called upon her the next day, and turned the dis-
course upon the tragic poets ; Shakspeare, Otway, Cor-
neille, Racine. He was delighted to find she knew
something of most, and eagerly asked which she pre-
ferred ? — To his astonishment she answered that she
did not see much difference. This apathy, or rather
ignorance, shocked him, and he staid away a week.
Meeting her afterwards on horseback in the Park,
accompanying her cousins the Ladies S and
her uncle the Duke, he joined the party. She rode
gracefully, and looked particularly well. A bevy of
dandies joined them also, and (as upon such occa-
sions alone she did,) she became talkative. One of
the Ladies S seeing a man in a tree looking at
them as they rode by, observed he was like Charles
in the oak. This brought on an historical conver-
sation between the two cousins, in which Lady Ger-
trude remarked, it was a pity that notwithstanding
his wonderful escape, first in the oak, and then in
110
TREMAINE.
disguise, they should have cut Charles’s head off
after all !
Her cousins laughed ; even the dandies smiled ;
and the Duke observed gravely that he would make
her a present of Hume’s history. Poor Tremaine
fell back in unconquerable mortification.
Whatever inclination he had had, was now cured,
and mere civility took the place of attention : he
still however scrutinized, but the scrutiny was un-
fortunate.
A letter from Lady Bellenden at Lisbon an-
nounced so much increase of illness, as to make her
wish for her daughter to join her ; for which her
father, who was flying to his wife, desired her to
prepare. Many of her friends condoled with her on
the situation of her mother. “Yes!” said she, “it
is quite shocking, and most provoking too just now,
at the moment when we’ve got to Town, and the
balls are all beginning.”
Tremaine heard this, and from that moment re-
garded the fair Gertrude not merely with indifference
but aversion. This was the
“ Last scene of all,
“ And ends this strange eventful history.”
TREMAINE.
Ill
CHAP. XII.
IN WHICH SYMPTOMS ARE HANDLED WITH GREAT
LEARNING.
“ How silver sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night,
“ Like softest music to attending ears.”
SFIAKSPEARE.
Tremaine’s barouche had past Homestead Hall
by half a mile, and the inhabitants of that quiet
mansion had been in bed for half an hour, before
any one of the party seemed disposed to break the
silence in which they had departed from Bellenden
House.
Their way lay through a valley watered by the
Wharf, (a) whose meadowed banks exhaled all the
sweetness of the hay harvest. On one side were
woods, buried by the evening shade, save where the
moon, just risen, had not (C Jired ,” but silvered the
u tops of the ea^ern pines.” Not a sound broke in
upon the stillness, except the regular returns of the
horses’ feet, and now and then the bark of a distant
watch dog from the hills above.
It was a scene to sooth the senses of all the party,
and that soothing each seemed afraid to disturb.
O
All were therefore silent.
(a) A very beautiful river in Yorkshire.
112
TREMAINE.
Evelyn was employed in drawing a comparison
between the richness of the treat which at present
courted him, and the contests of vanity he had
just witnessed. Georgina, the sweet and natural
Georgina, gave herself up the more to the unsophis-
ticated pleasure of the scene, from the recollection
of the many artificial parts she had just seen acted,
by persons, who yet would have been enraged be-
yond forgiveness, if their sincerity had in any thing
been questioned. And Tremaine required all the
softness which by degrees stole upon him, to enable
him to forget the disgust of the last hours, so as to
think, much more to talk of them with the com-
monest patience.
For the first mile indeed he was seriously revolv-
ing a vow within himself, never again to stir out of
the precincts of Woodington ; when he recollected
the effects of such a vow upon the forlorn Sir Hilde-
brand, and corrected it into a resolution never again
to go to a public day, or to extend his acquaintance
beyond those neighbours who were at that instant
his companions.
In these thoughts, the carriage rolled rapidly on,
and the spell of silence seemed likely to continue,
when Evelyn, after contemplating the moon, which,
now risen higher, began to glitter in the rippling of
the water, suddenly broke out with, u If Doctor
M‘Ginnis were here, what would he ”
u For Heaven’s sake,” cried Tremaine, looking
almost astounded, “ who but yourself could think of
TREMAINE. 113
interrupting such a scene as this with that odious
man’s name ?”
“ Perhaps,” answered the Doctor, drily, u you
might like Mrs. Neville’s or Miss Lyttleton’s
better ?”
u Worse and worse,” observed Tremaine; (C those
women are absolute imps.”
ce For shame,” said Georgina with gentleness :
u this charming night ought to cure ill-humour,
whatever our reason for it.”
a You are always so good!” replied Tremaine; —
“ but even you , if you would but answer honestly — ”
66 That I will, if I answer at all,” said Georgina.
6C Have you then been happy,” asked Tremaine,
(e in any one minute of your visit ?”
a Yes, very, in every part of it spent with dear
Lady Bellenden.”
u Which amounted to that one minute,” pursued
Tremaine ; — C6 but during any other?”
e( Happy is an important word,” replied Geor-
gina hesitatingly; “ and I have even been mortified;
but I have also been amused.”
“ Mortified by a pretty fool, and amused by a
virago,” rejoined Tremaine. — (( I watched every turn
of that tell-tale countenance.”
u You seem to have read it well,” observed
Evelyn, rather seriously.
u He who runs may read,” cried Tremaine.
“ She is certainly no dissembler,” concluded her
father.
114
TREMAINE.
<c I own you have made me out,” pursued Geor-
gina — “ for I was hurt by Lady Gertrude’s finery ,
but more amused than disgusted by Miss Lyttleton’s
rattle, especially as Mrs. Neville seemed to think she
meant no ill.”
u My dear Georgina!” cried Tremaine ; and in
the warmth of pressing his point, he pressed her
hand. —
Dear Georgina! her hand pressed, and in a soft
summer’s night! — Then a declaration is at length
coming from the refined Fastidieux.
Now there are three reasons against this. In the
first place, the lady’s father was present ; which would
have included a solecism in the etiquette of these
matters, never to be forgiven. Believe me, I have
studied the subject. In the next, he had no suspicion
whatever, how she would have taken a declaration,
if he had made one ; it would therefore have been
altogether contrary to rule, — since, founded or not
founded, there must be at least a hope on the part of
the gentleman, before he screw's himself up to the mark
in question. Thirdly and lastly, (and which, perhaps,
had better have been put first,) he had himself no
thought whatever of making a declaration.
In sober truth, Tremaine pressed Miss Evelyn’s
hand, merely, as I said, because he was pressing his
argument; and though it was a soft hand, a delicate
hand, a tender, elegant, and feminine little hand as
any you should see in a summer’s night, (and more-
over such a hand was a part of a beautiful girl, which
TREMAINE.
115
Tremaine particularly admired) yet he knew no
more that at that moment he was pressing it, than if
it had been Miss Carysfort’s.
Not that he was insensible to all the little thrills
and emotions, which even the tip of a finger can
sometimes convey through another finger, up to the
very heart ; but then his heart must have been
previously awakened, and the act itself must have
proceeded in company with the proper associations.
But in this instance the associations were not in
unison, for they were all employed upon persons who
excited the reverse of tenderness within his bosom;
and thinking in very bitterness of Mrs. Neville, Lady
Gertrude, and the Amazon, when he was squeezing
Georgina’s hand, he minded it no more than if he
had been squeezing an orange.
It was not exactly the same with Georgina; for
with her pure, unruffled soul, attuned generally to
softness, and full of that respect for herself which
perfect innocence always creates, she had forgotten
all the little disappointments which Lady Gertrude
had made her for a moment feel; the noise and non-
sense she had witnessed had begun to sink from her
remembrance ; and she was open alone to the im-
pressions of the scenery we have been describing.
With her, associations were all the other way.
When Tremaine, therefore, uttered his exclamation,
and pressed her hand to boot, as if to prevent its
being lost upon her, a sensation of surprise, not
unaccompanied with pleasure, came over her. It
116
TREMAINE.
tingled in the fingers he pressed with his, passed up
the arm, and took the road to a heart as pure as
that Seraphina’s, which in the dream of a moral
writer of the last age, was found without a spot, (a )
I say took the road, because I am far from abusing
the despotic power with which authors are invested,
of relating whatever they please of what passes in a
young lady’s bosom, whether they are sure of the fact
or not, and all because there is no fear of contradic-
tion ; I therefore do not pretend to say that this
action and speech of Tremaine’s went directly home
to that lovely heart ; but content myself with what
squares better with both truth and probability, in
saying they took the road to it. It is certain that
Georgina had been gratified by his attentions during
the whole of the visit to Bellenden House, where he
seemed to have neither eyes nor ears for any body
but herself, except when forced to make comparisons
between her and others, which ended evidently, uni-
formly, and greatly to her advantage.
In this frame of mind, give me leave to say, that
an endearing expression, though involuntary, (and
more so if accompanied by a squeeze of the hand,)
becomes often critical with a young and sensible girl,
especially if it happen in the country, and by moon-
light, by the bank of a river. It has been known
sometimes to decide the thing, almost without the
party’s knowing it herself.
(a) See the Spectator, No. 587.
TREMAINE.
117
Her father observed the action, and heard the ex-
clamation too ; but on him it made not the least
impression. Why ? — Simply I believe because he
was not a young girl,
“ Dear Georgina 1” cried Tremaine, and pressing
her hand as he said it, “ you are so honest yourself,
that you confide at once in another’s honesty : but
of all women, do not be run away with by Mrs.
Neville.”
“ Did she ever run away with you ?” asked the
Doctor.
H is daughter laughed at the question, while Tre-
maine returned, “nearer doing so than you are aware
of — but, thank Heaven ! I escaped.”
“ But the application to giddy brain ?” said
Evelyn.
“ That as Mrs. Neville can be all things to all
men, and all women,” replied Tremaine, “her ac-
count of the person in question is not to be trusted.”
“ Poor giddy brain!” exclaimed the Doctor:
“ but I understand Mrs. Neville was very civil to
Georgy, and invited her to Belvidere Castle, and
promised balls, and I know not what, at the assizes.
I protest I have a great mind she should go.”
“ To be left again in the lurch,” said Tremaine,
“ the moment a lady Gertrude appears.”
“ I acknowledge I should not like that,” remarked
Georgina ; “ and should prefer Miss Lyttleton a.
thousand times. She at least seems to have honesty.”
The honesty of a wild cat,” answered Tremaine.
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TREMAINE.
“ I confess,” said the Doctor, “ I thought she
scratched admirably : but will you tell us why you
hate her.”
“ Simply because she departs from every one point
in the character of her sex, which makes it either
respectable or amiable,”
“ She hunts,” observed the Doctor.
“ And w ould no doubt fight a duel,” continued
Tremaine, “and drink and swear, were drinking
and swearing again in fashion among men. She is
fearless in unsexing herself, and I confess I never see
her without wondering at her petticoats, as much as
if I beheld a man in woman’s cloaths ; and all this
is to be excused because she means no harm.”
“ Surely you are too severe,” said Georgina : “do
you really know any harm in her? — any vice?”
“ Not positive wickedness, as there is in Miss
Carysfort,” returned Tremaine ; “ but short of
wickedness, all that can make a woman disgusting
to a man, in disappointing him, every moment, of
his just expectations.”
“ J ust expectations !” said Georgina.
“Yes! for does not Miss Evelyn know, better
than any other , how the hope of being pleased, sooth-
ingly and elegantly pleased, is excited by the mere
approach of a young woman ! — What delight do we
not expect from her softness, that softness which real
beauty will always take for her handmaid ; that soft-
ness which wins our recollections when beauty itself
may be no more ; that softness, in short, which she
TREMAINE.
119
who asks this question would better know how to
appreciate, but that she possesses so much of it, as
to be unconscious of its value.”
He paused, and looked as if he meant more even
than he had said.
“This is very delicate,” thought Georgina; and
it was almost doubtful whether the application of it
to her, or the sentiment itself, pleased her most.
“You will please, Mr. Tremaine,” said Evelyn,
“ not to turn my girl’s head with your wheedling
tongue.”
“ The best, if not the only excuse I have heard
for Miss Lyttleton,” continued Tremaine, not mind-
ing him, “ is that she is eccentric. How many
faults does not that word generate, as well as de-
fend in men ! — In women it is totally out of charac-
ter. Neither genius, nor wit, nor generosity, nor
even honesty, can make up for it ; so peculiarly does
the real power of a woman depend upon her power
of pleasing, and so exclusively does that, for more
than a moment, depend upon softness.”
“I agree,” said Evelyn.
“ Never indeed was there such a mistake,” pur-
sued Tremaine, “as when a female supposes that
eccentricity can do more than amuse : that it should
attract or inspire that fondness, that devotion of
heart, which alone is love, which forms at once the
pride of woman and the happiness of man, might as
well be expected from the tricks of a monkey.”
“I agree again,” cried Evelyn.
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TREMAINE.
Georgina smiled, and felt all the force of the sen-
timent, but was- too much pleased to interrupt him.
He went on — u It may perhaps be want of gal-
lantry, to talk to you so much of gentleness, but re-
member it is Miss Lyttleton that forces me to revert
to what I think is the intention of the Creator him-
self in this respect, for if woman was cc Heaven’s last
best gift, the ever new delight” of man, it was be-
cause of her gentleness. That is properly the u strong
enforcement” of the sex. It is true you talk of your
conquests, and we own ourselves your slaves ; but it
is gentleness that wins us, and not a violence or
roughness like our own. Never was there a juster
thought or better conceived, than Otway’s, however
trite the passage—
“ Nature formed you
u To temper man— we had been brutes without you.”
There is no want of gallantry in this, thought
Georgina, still afraid to interrupt him.
u But I own I cannot be tempered by a fellow
brute f continued Tremaine. “ No! as nothing can
he more wise or more kind in respect to mutual
happiness, than the division of our different provinces,
so nothing can be more mistaken than for either to
invade the other. But your favourite poet will give
it you better in three lines than I could in three
volumes :
“ For contemplation he, and valour form'd,
“ For softness she, and sweet attractive grace >
“ He for God only, she for God in him.”
TREMAINE.
121
u Delightful !” cried Georgina, and a soft sigh,
(certainly not one of pain) stole from her bosom,
while she alternately looked at Tremaine and
the river which was now silvered all over by the
moon.
“ I give up Miss Lyttleton !” said Georgina.
66 1 knew you would,” said Tremaine, “ for there
is not the least affinity between you — nor is your
heart more opposite to Mrs. Neville’s, than your
manners to Miss Lyttleton’s.” *
“ Shall we say that from this time, that good will
with which, somehow or another, with all his para-
doxes, all his inconsistency, Tremaine had contrived
to inspire Georgina, began to take a more soft and
serious turn in her breast ? — that she felt, although
there was much to correct, yet that there was also
something much more congenial with herself than at
least she had ever yet discovered in any other
man?
The truth of history perhaps requires that we
should own this, notwithstanding the certainty that
awaits us of the indignation of that whole tribe of
fair ones, who just emerging into light and life,
think, for the most part, they might as well be again
immerged in darkness, (or, what is the same thing,
return once more to the horrors of school,) as be
consigned at twenty to the love of a man of eight
and thirty.
It must be recollected, however, we say not that
VOL. II. g
122
TREMAINE.
either the gentleman or the lady was what is called in
love, according to the creed of these fair ones. For
neither was Georgina ready to swear eternal attach*
ment for him to her own heart, without knowing any
thing about his ; or that she never would marry any
other man, whether he offered or not; — (all which is
legitimately necessary to constitute the full and
genuine passion, as acknowledged by all young
ladies, from sixteen to six and twenty) nor was Mr.
Tremaine ready to sacrifice the ample comforts, the
splendour and consequence of Woodington and
Belmont, to live in a cottage, provided Georgina
was his companion ; nor was either party ready, the
one to run away, the other to be run away with, did
the good Evelyn refuse his consent, — all which I
apprehend to be absolutely essential to be established,
before we can pretend to lay this as a love tale before
any of our readers, particularly the younger, and
the gentler sex.
Do not therefore let .the mistake be incurred, that
because there was a great deal of good will, of mu-
tual deference, and mutual complacency, between
these parties ; because they loved each others com-
pany ; because Tremaine remembered no one of the
spoilt children of the world to be compared to the rosy
sweetness, the natural sense, and the natural grace of
Georgina ; and because Georgina always saw some-
thing in Tremaine, which by seeming ready to sacri-
fice his very prejudices to his wish to please her, won
TREMAINE.
123
a wish on her part to please him ; do not I say
incur the mistake that the feelings of the parties
amounted to love.
Pray what then did they amount to ?
To something a great deal better.
And yet, with all his years, Tremaine could still
“ make ballads on his mistress’s eyebrow !” — could
still think Evelyn Hall the prettiest view from
Woodington ; nay, I verily believe, could we have
ascertained it, that if a glimmer of her night-candle
could have been discovered through Georgina’s
window -shutter, he would never have been able
to retire to rest without opening his own to contem-
plate it ; which, let me tell you, is a very critical
symptom.
But this was forbidden by two reasons — first, that
no light, (at least none from a crevice,) could be dis-
cerned so far ; and next, that Georgina’s w indow
did not point that way.
If love then be a passion solely of the mind, and
not of the senses, as Plato and some modern Jurists
would say (not one word of which however I be-
lieve) ; or if it be of a mixt nature, compounded of
mind and sense, (which may be nearer the truth,)
Mr. Tremaine had as good a right to love, and per-
haps to be loved, as a much younger man. And
even if this busy, meddling, feeling, ardent, whim-
sical, and capricious principle, which sets us all,
high and low, in commotion, and so often throws us
G 2
124
TREMAINE.
off our centres — even, 1 say, if it is confined exclu-
sively to the senses, as Aristippus, and numberless
other practical philosophers hold, (not one word of
which either do I believe,) why it is at least a matter
of taste ; and all that we can say is, that if Geor-
gina at twenty chose to prefer a man of eight and
thirty, because, whenever he smiled, his smile was
only the more engaging from its contrast with a
natural but manly pensiveness ; because he had good
teeth, an aquiline nose, an expressive eye, and a
modish, gentlemanly air ; why she alone was con-
cerned, and we have nothing to do with it. — But to
return.
■ A pause of some minutes ensued after Tremaine’s
eulogium on gentleness, and while each of the trio
seemed occupied with the lovely scene around them,
or listening to the not unsolemn rythm of the regular
trot of the horses, which broke but did not seem to
disturb the silence of the night, each was engaged
with his own thoughts. Tremaine felt that he had
enforced a favourite principle the better for having
the best practical example of it so close at his side :
while that example, who, if ever woman was exempt
from vanity, was spotless in that respect, could yet
not help reverting every minute to the turn he had
given his theory in applying it by a delicate inference
to herself. Shall we or not confess too, (unaccount-
able as it may appear,) that her memory every now
and then, and almost unconsciously, found itself
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125
dwelling on those emphatic words and wishes of
her protegee Mary, in which that she should be
mistress of Woodington, and consequently the in-
separable companion of its master, was plainly in-
cluded.
Whether this arose from any of those quick
glancing transitions of thought, which depend upon
such secret associations as are not to be traced, and
seem therefore mere arbitrary ebullitions of fancy,
having nothing to do with the heart ; or whether
they proceeded by the direct and perceptible road
from the heart itself into the brain, philosophical as
we are, we own ourselves unable to tell ; and cer-
tainly Georgina herself could not ascertain the true
state of the case. All we know is, that during
several minutes, while her eyes seemed absorbed by
the landscape through which she was passing, her
imagination was closed in a reverie, not less novel
than pleasing, in which Tremaine bore by far the
principal share.
In this reverie, the carriage still rolled on — its con-
ductors, seemingly (and strangely in Georgina’s
mind,) unconscious of the interesting scene that ab-
sorbed her, till it came to Woodington, where both
drivers and horses would not unwillingly have stopt,
thinking the Doctor’s post-chaise would be in wait-
ing. — It however had had no orders to return, and
Tremaine commanding his postillions on to Evelyn
Hall, they were a little surprised, not only that their
G 3
m
TREMAINE.
so natural expectation was disappointed, but that their
master, who could so conveniently and comfortably
have slipt into his own bed, (it being now past mid-
night,) should yet think of going on himself, merely
to return alone.
These postillions were certainly not in love !
CHAP. XIII.
MR. TREMAINE IMPROVES.
“ Lofty and sour to them that loved him not ;
“ But to those men that sought him, sweet as Summer.”
SHAKSPEARE.
We shall not enquire whether Mr. Tremaine had
any, or what dreams^ when he was quietly deposited
at home, after rather a softer farewell of his friends
than usual, in which he not only did not disapprove,
but absolutely sought the soft pressure of Georgina’s
hand. So easy is it for prejudice, when founded
more in spleen than nature, to be overcome. It will
be recollected, indeed, that in a short but very im-
TREMAINE.
127
portant chapter of this work, to fall in love, was
enumerated (together with rolling in a horse-pond,)
as one of the cures for the spleen : and certain it is,
that even the incipient symptoms of this delightful
remedy (1 do not mean the horse-pond,) had begun
already to operate upon Tremaine’s disease.
What can be so interesting, said a fox-hunter
once to a politician, as a hard-run chace ?
What ! replied the politician ? — why, a hard-run
division in the House of Commons !
Tremaine had tried both, and found that, like
other medicines, they lost their effect by repetition.
He now seemed to court his r\ew one with every hope
of success.
She is certainly, said he at eight o’clock one morn-
ing, as he looked towards Evelyn Hall from his
terrace seat, more in the perfection of her nature
than any other female being I ever beheld ; and her
father is the worthiest, perhaps the most sensible
of men.
Now a great revolution must have obviously taken
place in the mind of the Fastidieux, before all this
could have happened. For in the first place, he
was not only up, but dressed, and in the air at
eight o’clock. Perhaps the air was refreshing ? — So
it always had been! — The morning fine? — So it
often had been ! — Perhaps he was without sleep ? —
So he generally had been ! — Perhaps he had been
convinced by Evelyn’s arguments ? — That he only
sometimes had been ! — What then had produced all
g 4
128
TREMAINE.
this ? — Simply an observation that had been made
from the rosy lips of Georgina, that there was some-
thing so benignant in the morning air, that she not
only felt better in health and spirits, but more grate-
ful in heart for it to him who sent it, and conse-
quently more pleased and happy, all the day long.”
66 Would not a cold bath have the same effect ?” —
asked Tremaine.
cc Possibly upon the spirits,” answered the lady,
<c but not upon the heart ; nor can I ever view the
face of nature, smiling and fresh, and seeming abso-
lutely to breaths, as it always does in the early
morning, without feeling a sentiment of gratitude
(perhaps I ought to say of devotion) towards its
author, for which I am, I hope, the better many
hours afterwards.”
She said this so unaffectedly, and looked so sin-
cerely pious as she said it, that her beauty seemed to
assume a new, certainly a more engaging, and even
a more imposing influence, than Tremaine had ever
yet felt from any other being.
He answered nothing, but thought like Comus,
“ She fables not. I feel that I do fear
“ Her words set off by some superior power.”
And so they were; but the power was nothing
but nature, speaking in nature’s accents, to one who
had so long been accustomed to artificial life, that
they seemed to belong to something divine.
“ My God !” thought Tremaine, u that ever a
TREMAINE. 129
cold and selfish Exclusive should have been able tb
interest me for a single hour !”
’Tis very certain that young as Lady Gertrude
was, during the one and twenty years of her life she
had never felt an impression approaching to the feel-
ing, much less to the utterance of it, in the manner
related of the unaffected Georgina.
Mr. Tremaine rose the next day at eight, to the
astonishment, and the next day after also, to the
consternation of Monsieur Dupuis, who, being in
many particulars as refined as his master, loved to lie
in bed as long, but not being as much in love with
Mrs. Watson, (the only person whom his self-conse-
quence would allow him to think of) as his master
was with Georgina, the reform which took place
was not submitted to, either with a good grace, or
without remonstrance.
Seeing that it was continued for three mornings
running, he could not help exclaiming as he opened
the windows according to order, on the fourth,
u Apparement la sante de Monsieur s’est bien reta-
blie, puis qu’il se leve a si bonne heure.”
Now there were three different ways of saying this.
For it might be kindly, and out of interest about
a master whom one regarded.
Or it might be indifferently, from the mere love of
chattering, or rather an impossibility to hold one’s
tongue, and without caring a straw for the person to
whom it was addressed.
Or it might be reproachfully, and in a sort of
g 5
ISO
TREMAINE.
growling manner, as if one totally disapproved the
subject upon which the observation was made.
Let it be always however understood, that it is
only a French valet who would have ventured any
observation at all; since if he had thought a thou-
sand years, an English one would have done what
he was bid, without ever dreaming of making a
remark on it. Let it also be understood that I
speak only of male valets ; for a female, of whatever
nation, will only acknowledge such bounds to a toi-
lette conversation as her mistress may chuse to allot
to her ; and happy the mistress who can get her to
submit even to that.
Be this as it may, Monsieur Dupuis, who, though
he has made no great figure in this history, was a
person of some ingenuity, and not altogether like the
common run of valets, whether French or English,
uttered his exclamation not precisely in any one of
the modes enumerated, but in a manner and tone
compounded of all three. For he rather loved his
master; he positively loved chattering; and he cer-
tainly loved his own ease.
Tremaine making him no answer, he went on,
u Monsieur, me paroit beaucoup change depuis peu ;
et a ce qu’on dit .”
u Truce with your on dits,” interrupted the mas-
ter, who had the taste to have a horror of making a
confidant of his valet; “ on dits are always imper-
tinent.”
This was said in a tone which generally silenced
TREMAINE.
131
Monsieur Dupuis as long as he could be silenced,
which was seldom more than one minute at a time.
Returning therefore to the charge, he said he only
meant to observe, that a master he had served in
France, of a weak and delicate constitution, had
made himself a great deal worse by taking to rise
early; — and that as to the on dit, it concerned
Mademoiselle Georgina, de qui Madame Vatson — .
66 I must desire,” again interrupted Tremaine,
u that neither you nor Watson will give yourselves the
liberty of talking of me or my neighbours.”
“ C’est seulment,” replied the unabashed valet,
“que Yatson la trouvela plus charmante Demoiselle
du monde, et que l’on dit ”
u Leave the room,” cried Tremaine in a stern
voice, which the valet instantly obeyed, and shaking
his head as he entered the housekeeper's apartment,
observed gravely that their conjectures must certainly
be wrong, for as his master would not talk to him on
the subject, though he had even mentioned her name,
he could not possibly be in love with Miss Evelyn.
His master nevertheless took to rising early in
consequence of Miss Evelyn’s notions, and Miss
Evelyn’s advice ; nay, what is more, he took to
manual labour, — for he was actually detected one
evening at Evelyn Hall, (and strange to say, after
dinner, though only seven o’clock,) in the very act of
assisting her to water some carnations and moss
roses, of which she was particularly careful. Of these
flowers too he became so fond himself, that he would
132
TREMAINE.
sometimes pass full half an hour in conference with
his own gardener upon the best mode of transplant-
ing and rearing them in the parterre at Woodington.
And thus a change, which the force of truth,
speaking through the good sense of Evelyn himself
could not produce, (as has been more fully related in
the course of this work,) the approving smile of a
winning and virtuous girl had thoroughly effected.
To shut himself up indeed became now no longer
that fixed principle to which he had sacrificed his
happiness, and almost his health ; and though he
could unbend as little as ever to what he called the
Boors, or what, in his mind, was little removed from
them, mere every day characters, (two classes which
embraced he thought by far the greatest proportion
of his acquaintance, whether in town or country,)
yet the effort of mind which Evelyn’s conversation
constantly excited, and the sweet desire of pleasing
and being pleased, excited by another, (in itself suffi-
cient happiness) left him no longer a slave to ennui.
The effect of this also, was to do good in other
respects, for it rendered him infinitely more agreeable
where he most wished to be so. The play of his
mind developed itself in a liveliness which seemed
only natural to it ; the colour had returned to his
cheek with earlier hours, and more regular exercise :
we have said that his smile was engaging, and his
almost daily intercourse with neighbours in whom
he saw all to approve, and nothing to blame, made
him smile often.
TREMAINE.
133
In this improved state, a fuller indulgence was
given to the natural benevolence of his heart, to
which none that were in want evePapplied in vain;
and his indolence being much overcome, he was even
known to seek out objects of relief, as well as to
relieve them. His old friend Watson, and even
Dupuis, were even made confidants, or rather instru-
ments on those occasions, and whatever was done,
found its way straight to Evelyn Hall, between
whose domestics and those at Woodington there was
as constant intercourse as between the masters.
Not that Monsieur Dupuis’s dignity condescended
very often to shine upon a menage in which there
was no second table. Indeed he was frequently
known to lament his hard fate, in having no neigh-
bours worthy of him, any more than his master; in-
somuch that it once escaped him that his master
himself was the only fit companion he could find in
the country : and this coming to Evelyn’s ears, it
was made good use of, to cure, by its ridicule, the
fastidiousness which had become so burthensome
both to master and man.
Between Watson however and Evelyn’s house-
keeper, or rather Georgina’s maid, (for Georgina her-
self was housekeeper in chief,) there had always been
intimacy, and frequent visiting ; and, as may be sup-
posed, the transactions of one family were not long
concealed from the other.
Many traits of generosity on the part of Tremaine
were therefore promulgated without his knowing it,
134
TREMAINE.
in the quarter where, had he been a designing man,
he would most have wished to have had them pub-
lished — so high 'did they raise him where he most
wished to be raised.
In short, all that Watson knew was naturally
conveyed to Georgina’s maid, and as naturally
through her to Georgina herself.
It was not that that young lady encouraged the
loquacity of her attendant, or made a confidant of her ;
for she had too much natural dignity for such a con-
duct : but what she could not encourage, she was
frequently not able to prevent : and Mrs. Margaret
Winter, having been an old servant of her mother
about her own person from her cradle, fond of her
young mistress, and moreover penetrating enough to
discover what was or was not agreeable to her, poor
Georgina had many things to be said for her, (par-
ticularly if we add the dearth of topics in a country
seclusion,) when she found herself listening as she
sometimes did, if not with complacency, at least
without displeasure, to the adroit tattle of her afore-
said waiting gentlewoman.
TREMAINE.
135
CHAP. XIV.
AN ADVENTURE.
“ Oh! fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly,
“ For I will touch thee but with rev’rent hands :
c< I kiss these fingers for eternal peace,
“ And lay them gently on thy tender side.
“ Who art thou ? Say, that I may honour thee.”
SHAKSPEARE.
An incident about this time occurred, which
seemed to promise additional happiness to the life of
Georgina. For young, sanguine, and innocent, her
heart was easily wrought upon to confide in the ex-
pectation of whatever her reason and fancy combined
to make her hope ; nor had she yet been taught by
any experience, that what her heart had fair ground
to rely upon, could ever fail.
It was in a glowing forenoon in August, when she
was returning on horseback from a visit to her aunt,
at the town where, as we have formerly mentioned,
the sessions were held.
Her father having been detained on business, and
the distance not great, she had set out, attended only
by a servant; and the season being hot, she was
tempted to explore a way she had heard of, but
136
TREMAINE.
never knew, through an extensive and shady wood,
not many miles distant from EvelynHall. The groom
was as ignorant of it as herself, but accustomed
always to act, and perfectly mistress of the geogra-
phical points of the country, she thought there was
no difficulty but what she could easily overcome.
Her father was rather pleased with this sort of dis-
position to act for herself.
On this occasion, however, the road being com-
posed of different horsepaths, of which there were
many, crossing one another in different directions,
and the wood so umbrageous, that she could scarcely
see the sun, so as to know the points of the compass,
she became entangled in the labyrinth, and looked
in vain for assistance from passengers, or a solitary
woodman, to whom she hoped, if in difficulty, she
might apply.
She consulted indeed with the faithful John; but,
except in fidelity, John was very little to be relied
on— and least of all, in a matter that required intelli-
gence. In this emergency, after riding for some
time, she was not a little pleased to observe at the
end of a sort of avenue in the wood a house, or
rather, as it appeared, the remains of one, whose
chimney gave the only sign that it was inhabited; for
not a creature, whether human or otherwise, seemed
t o belong to it.
u We shall certainly gain some information here,”
said she to her groom, whom she directed to enquire,
and followed him slowly up to the house. Every
TItEMAINE.
137
thing about it seemed to partake of the stillness of
the scene in which it was placed ; for not a sound,
except now and then the note of a bird, which the
heat seemed also much to repress, was to be heard.
While John, who had dismounted, was on the
quest for intelligence, she had leisure for a nearer
survey of the place, which, small and even deserted
as it had at a distance appeared, now let in a deeper
front with a better air, and a ground plot elegantly
kept, from the neatness of its turf, and gravel walks,
its benches, and its flowers : it seemed a little fairy
land.
I wish the fairy herself would appear, thought
Georgina, for I think I should like to know her,
exclusive of having lost my way.
Georgina had been so accustomed to call at all the
cottages in the neighbourhood, where she was not
only well known, but beloved, so that every door
opened with gladness at her approach, that it never
occurred to her to suppose she was doing any thing
out of the common course, in thus riding up to a
strange house. Besides, a traveller who has lost her
way, is protected by all laws of hospitality even
among the most barbarous; and a female is privileged
by every maxim and feeling of chivalry. Add then
to this, what after all we must not disguise, that a
little spice of romance warmed sometimes the young
bosom of this natural girl,— and her curiosity might
be thought pardonable — by any one but an exclusive.
She was therefore a little shocked, as well as dis*
m
TREMAINE.
appointed to hear a voice of no very sweet tone,
scolding, rather than informing John of his way. It
proceeded from a sort of old cook-maid who now
made her appearance.
“ As for your losing yourself,” said she, “ I don’t
believe nothing about it, not I; and I don’t see how
any body could find us out that did not know the
way better than 1 do myself, who am not of these
parts.”
By this time, however, perceiving Georgina, whose
mere appearance conciliated instant good-wiil, she
dropt a courtesy, and said, “ To be sure I find he
speaks the truth, and belongs to a lady, but I am
sorry I can’t inform your ladyship, for I corned from
a great distance myself, and never heard of Iflin
Hall.”
“ May 1 ask,” said Georgina with great sweetness,
“ whether your mistress is at home ? I dare say she
can tell.”
“La! no Ma’am,” returned the dame; “ they be
out, and if they was not, they knows still less than
me; and besides, they would be extremely sorry,
that is, I dare say they would be glad to see your
ladyship, if they knew you, but ”
“ But what?” asked Georgina, observing her to
pause.
“ They never sees nobody, nor likes to be seen.”
“May I not enquire their name?” said Georgina.
“ Dear me no ; for they told me not to answer any
questions about them, if any body corned, and as
TREMAINE.
139
for that, I am sure I don’t know tlieir names myself,
they be so hard to pernounce, and so I am sorry to
beg to go back to my work, and am sorry I can’t tell
you the way.”
So saying, the faithful but abrupt female retreated
to the house, the door of which she closed with a
violence which shewed that nothing more was to be
expected from her.
Georgina was now in a real dilemma, not at ail
lessened by the change in the sky, in which large
and heavy clouds had been gathering, and were now
ready to burst over her head in all the drenching
force of a summer storm. Some poultry that had
been feeding on the green sward denoted their ex-
pectation of it, by flying to their sheds near the
cottage, where they drew up as it were in self-de-
fence; and flocks of birds were seen in the air,
crossing the glade, in search of the deepest shelter
of the forest. At length a thunder cloud broke
with a dreadful crash, and the rain descended in a
torrent which in one instant soaked both the lady
and her groom, through and through,
Georgina was not unused to this, and had she at
all know'n her way home, would not have minded
riding through it ; but to scamper in a storm
through paths, the direction of which was abso-
lutely unknown, and which might have rendered
every exertion worse than unavailing, by leading
her farther and farther from the home she sought —
all prudence forbade it — she therefore resolved to
140
TREMAINE.
alight, and, inhospitable as the cottage had hitherto
been, to ask an asylum against the continued rain ;
and as there was no time to hesitate at the door,
she directed the man with his horses to seek a
neighbouring barn, and proceeded herself round the
building, till she found and entered the kitchen.
The dame who there presided, though her fidelity
to orders made her appear rugged, was not really
inhospitable ; and seeing a delicate young creature,
of superior mould, and a sweetness of countenance
which immediately made friends, dripping wet, and
apparently in distress, she, with many lack-a-daisies,
begged her to come in and dry herself, in order the
better to do which she proposed to her to pull off
her habit, which was immediately hung to the fire.
Meantime the courteousness of Georgina’s de-
meanour, in gratitude for the old woman’s attentions,
won upon the latter to such a degree, that she lost all
her reserve in kind fears for her safety.
u Well,” said she, u I declare if you be’nt as nice
as our Miss ; and a whiter skin ; and as young too !
Pity you should take cold ; yet I fear it, for your
handkerchief is all wet. Well, I have a great mind
to get you some of Miss’s things, till yours be dried.”
Georgina felt really the necessity of something of
the sort, but to avoid the difficulty which the old
woman seemed to have about it, she proposed to her
to lend her a clean handkerchief of her own, for
which she said she would be grateful.
To this the hostess assented ; not but what Miss,
TREMAINE.
141
she said, would be glad to lend her all the things she
had ; and she had drawers full of muslins and laces ;
only as she was not at home, and hated strangers so
much, she was timersome about it.
Having procured one of her own pinners, she now
began to think that the kitchen was not a proper
place for a young lady, who was evidently of higher
order ; such respect does natural gentility create, in
even the most rugged bosom, which the good house-
wife’s however was not. Forgetful therefore of her
former stiffness, she said such a young lady as she
ought not to stay in the kitchen, and fairly invited
her into the parlor, till she had made an end of
drying her things . — 6( Mayhap they may all be ready
by the time the storm is over, and you gone before
mistress comes home,” said the old woman.
Ci Will you not tell them then of your kindness?”
asked Georgina.
Ci Perhaps I may tell Miss,” returned she* (e she
would so like you if she seed you, but I am afraid
Mistress would be angered, though for all that she
be good enough.”
“ You have then two ladies,” said Georgina,
looking round the room, and observing books, a
tambour, and a harp : u are they sisters ?”
“ No !”
“ Mother and daughter perhaps ?”
u I don’t know,” said the old woman : “ Miss
calls the other Mamma, but only sometimes, and
they are not a bit like, though very fond.”
142
TREMAINE.
u You must not suppose me impertinent,” said
Georgina, ££ but as I live a very few miles from
them, and they seem strangers, my father, Dr. Eve-
lyn, and myself, would be extremely glad to know,
or be of use to them if we could.”
“ Your ladyship is good,” answered the servant,
cc but I know' they won’t know nobody.”
££ Are they not dull ?” asked Georgina, perceiving
her companion hesitating whether to talk or not.
u Sometimes I suppose they be, but they have
enough to do with reading them books,” pointing
to a table covered with them.
Georgina seeing one of them open, could not help
taking it up, and found it to be a Tasso, very
elegantly bound, and in the first leaf saw in a beau-
tiful female hand the words, 11 dono del suo carissi-
mo amico, a Melainie de Montauban.
The interest, not to say curiosity of Georgina,
was much raised at this; but as the old woman could
not read, she the less perceived it.
££ And who plays the harp?” asked Miss Evelyn,
after pausing a little on the book.
££ Oh ! both mistresses,” was the answer : ££ indeed
one teaches t’other, as indeed she does them books,
and every thing else !”
££ And have you no master?” —
u No! none ! — and as for that, 1 never seed a man
near the house but the gardener.”
££ Your mistress has no husband, and your young
lady no brother ?” —
££ I fancy not,” said the woman.
TREMAINE. 143
Fancy not ! This is very mysterious, thought
Georgina.
Every thing in the room, the taste of the furniture,
though unexpensive; the recherche of the books, the
music, and some very pretty drawings, all bespoke
that the apartment belonged to beings of superior
cultivation ; and two miniatures highly finished,
over the chimney, the one of an officer in the British
uniform, the other of a person of remarkable expres-
sion, in the costume of Henry the Fourth of France,
particularly arrested Georgina’s attention.
“ Do you know who these are?” asked she.
u No ! I don’t understand any of them things,”
was the answer.
She now began to think she might be deemed im-
pertinently intrusive, if she continued longer where
she had been given to understand she would not be
thought welcome ; and the storm appearing to clear
away, she resumed her habit, which was now dry,
and more than satisfying the old woman for her
trouble, she called for her horses, in order to explore
her way home.
Scarcely however had she left the little gate that
led through the garden into the house, but she be-
held, already in the avenue, the two persons who
had so much excited her enquiries. At least such
she supposed two ladies who were advancing towards
her with a rapid, yet hesitating step.
The elegance of their movements, added to the
easy flow of their garments, denoted something of
TREMAINE.
144
far greater polish than this retired forest had ever yet
seen.
Georgina felt awkward, and not a little surprised,
when one of them, who seemed younger than the
other, sprang forward like a bounding roe from the
side of its mother, to meet her.
Her steps were as graceful as swift; and a coun-
tenance not easily described, in which health, joy,
and eagerness were blended, absolutely shone upon
Georgina like a vision. Though all was tumult and
the hurry of an instant, her heart could not help
hoping, (and she believed what she hoped,) that it
was lVIelainie de Montauban.
Both ladies were confused, and the countenance
*)f the supposed Melainie fell at once abashed and
timid, when upon a nearer approach, she discovered
that Georgina was not the person she had taken her
for. The eyes of the two girls however had met ;
they were eyes of corresponding intelligence and mo-
desty, and (as they each could not help thinking,
though in such a confused moment,) of correspond-
ing kindness.
The elder lady, who had herself advanced with
quickened pace, on first discerning Georgina, now
also fell back, and received the hand of her young
companion, who sought hers, as it were, for protec-
tion. Yet still the latter could not help, with ani-
mated interest, examining the object from which she
seemed to fly. Both the strangers then turned, as if
desirous of avoiding the meeting, yet hesitatingly,
TREMAINE.
145
and doubtful what to do ; while many a side glance
was given by the younger to Georgina, who now
(for she could escape no other way,) was, out of
sheer necessity, come up to them.
Observing their evident intention to avoid her, she
hesitated whether to intrude still farther by apolo-
gizing for her original intrusion, or to accommodate
herself to their humour, by galloping off. Her dis-
position inclined her to the last, as least awkward of
the two, but her natural politeness checked this dis-
position ; and feeling that she really owed some ex-
planation for being where she was, she accosted both
ladies, with her usual grace; at the same time her
desire of explaining herself was at least not repressed,
by observing that the lady who seemed to take the
lead was a woman of commanding presence, un-
common elegance of form, and though not young, of
great sensibility of features. With such a woman
she could not bear to be thought capable of taking a
liberty.
Addressing herself therefore particularly to her,
C( I ought I am sure,” she said, u to beg pardon for
the freedom I am using ; but if the ladies I am ad-
dressing are the owners of the house I have just left,
I cannot but thank them for the asylum it has
afforded me.”
The elder lady replied, with ready but distant po-
liteness, she was happy if she had found any accom-
modation there during the storm.
A constrained sort of air then took possession of
VOL. II. H
146
TREMAINE.
both speakers, and the stranger, with a bending pre-
paration for a courtesy, rather than a courtesy itself,
seemed anxious for the moment when Georgina
should take leave.
That would have been instantly done, if the
awakened sparkle of her young companion’s counte-
nance had not arrested Miss Evelyn’s intended
movement, spite of all the endeavours she thought
she was making to urge on her horse.
“ Can I be excused,” said she, looking at her, “if
I hope that the nearness of this wood to my father’s
house may have proved more fortunate to me, than in
merely giving me a refuge from bad weather, and
that I may be allowed to profit by what I now know
is in the neighbourhood?”
The young inconnue turned a pair of large black
eyes on the face of her companion, as if entreating
that such a hint might be taken; but reading no as-
sent there, she let them fall in almost sadness upon
the ground.. She could not help however raising
them again with sweetness upon Georgina, and
crossing her arms upon her bosom with inexpressible
grace, courtesied her thanks. Not a word was
spoken, but her manner operated like a charm upon
the heart to which it was directed.
u I may at least I hope be allowed,” continued
Georgina, “ to explain who it is whom your servant’s
hospitality has obliged. My father, Dr. Evelyn, is
indeed the owner of part of this wood, and our house
cannot be more than five or six miles from you.”
TREMAINE.
147
u And you are Miss Evelyn!” said the young in-
connue, with a look of pleasure, and an accent, not
purely English, but which sounded in Georgina’s
ears as uncommonly soft.
The elder lady here interfered, and with grave,
though graceful civility, replied that no one, however
retired, could be in that neighbourhood without
having heard of the name of Evelyn. u I only hope,”
she added, “ that if we cannot profit by such kindness,
such obliging frankness as you have shewn us, it
will not be imputed to our being ungrateful for the
honour.”
At these words, taking her young charge by the
arm, she fairly obliged her to turn towards the house
with her; and Georgina’s only consolation was to
observe that she, whom she more than ever supposed
to be Mademoiselle de Montauban, more than once
turned round, as if to express her regret at the sepa-
ration.
Miss Evelyn was too well bred to make any far-
ther attempt at an intercourse which seemed to be
so expressly forbidden ; yet was so much hurt at the
reception of her advances, and at the same time
so occupied with the interesting manners of the
younger stranger, that in a slow walk she threw the
reins on her horse’s neck, letting him carry her where
he would ; from which situation she was only roused
by John.
This personage, though a very honest lad, having
h 2
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TREMAINE.
no sentiment in his composition, had beheld the
whole adventure (such are the different modes by
which nature works,) with the most entire indif-
ference ; if indeed we may say so, when the thought
of his wet clothes and an empty stomach, which di-
rected his imagination with particular pleasure to the
Doctor’s kitchen, can be said to be indifference. Be
this as it may, he conceived it but a very natural de-
cision that the object for which alone they had turned
out of the road, should be ascertained without farther
■delay ; and perceiving that her horse seemed to lead
liis mistress, and not his mistress to direct her horse,
he made bold to ask her if u them there ladies had
told her the way home?”
This very sensible question roused Georgina from
her reverie, and she owned she knew no more of the
road than she did before.
“ I thought so,” said John, with as much respect
as his wishes to be at home permitted : u and there-
fore I thinks its lucky to see that bagsman there-
for them people knows more about these out of the
way roads than e’er a postboy of them all.”
The person whom he called a bagsman was what,
in politer language, is denominated a gentleman tra-
veller. He was pushing on at a regular rate, upon
a stout brisk horse, and would by no means stop at
John’s call ; but being overtaken, he readily told
them he knew Evelyn Hall very well, as he passed
it six times in every year. He therefore undertook
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149
to lead them through the wood into Stony Lane, a
road well known both to Georgina and her groom,
and which in about five miles more led them to the
home they had been seeking.
CHAP. XV.
THE ADVENTURE CONTINUED.
“ Sir, your Queen
i( Desires your visitation, and to be
“ Acquainted with this stranger.
SHAKSPEARE.
Georgina was too full of her adventure not to
mention it to her father the moment she saw him.
She eagerly enquired whether he knew any strangers
that had come lately to reside in a house in the
middle of Somerville Wood. His negative answer
produced an explanation, and the history she had to
give, which roused his curiosity, and his activity of
disposition made him resolve to ride over the very
next day, in quest of information.
Georgina however altered his intention.
u From the account I have given,” said she, (C we
h 3
150
TREMAINE*
should evidently distress these kind recluses, by too
sudden a search, particularly perhaps if made by a
man, and a magistrate.”
u And how do you know they are kind ?” asked
the Doctor : “ you scarcely saw them ; and one of
them told you herself they did not wish to know you.”
u But not the other,” said Georgina.
However she confessed the truth, and laughed
heartily at her own romance, in supposing because
they seemed to be retired, and to wish to be un-
known, that they must therefore have merit.
66 I hope I am not given to be uncharitable,” said
Evelyn, 66 but it is at least possible their retirement
may have proceeded from cfe-merit.”
“ I should think not,” observed Georgina, u from
their loving one another, and the elegant cultivation
which every where appeared about them. I rather
think it must be merit under misfortune : possibly
some emigree.”
u Very possibly,” said Evelyn.
At length it was settled that in a day or two both
Georgina and her father should ride across that part
of the wood again, and pay them a visit in form. The
expectation of this, delighted Georgina, and she grew
impatient for the day.
(e I cannot see any harm in it,” said Evelyn; 66 it
is but neighbourly. They are lonely, and may want
society; they are strangers, and may want good
offices. At any rate they may have the refusal of
us,” added he as he mounted his horse.
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151
Having proceeded up Stony Lane, to the turning
into the wood, they soon fell into the path which led
to the house, and arrived at the bottom of the
avenue, which Georgina saw again with pleasure.
Eager as she was, however, she felt a little awkward,
not to say confused, as they approached the place to
make a visit, which to one of the parties concerned
she feared might be the reverse of agreeable : and
though supported by her father, she could not help
feeling that it was her own interest about the charm-
ing incognita that alone had prompted the measure.
In truth, as we have observed, and it cannot be
denied, this amiable girl was a little tinctured with
romance. Not that romance which, as in Eugenia,
was the effect of what is called novel reading, or an
over indulgence of ill regulated sensibility; but
merely such as was not unnatural at her age, particu-
larly when we consider the seclusion of her life.
Even if it had been of the first sort, she would not
perhaps have been wholly without excuse ; for the
good Doctor himself was (or rather had been) a
most voracious devourer of all that kind of food ; and
though he carefully locked it up from his daughter,
whom he scarcely ever permitted to look at what he
denominated trash, (meaning the common order of
novels,) it was a trash to which, it was shrewdly sus-
pected, particularly in his youth, he had had no sort
of objection.
Be this as it may, we now behold his daughter,
such as we have described her, and with her twenty
h 4
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THEM AINE.
years, and no more, over her head, upon the point of
offering her acquaintance to two perfect strangers,
without the least knowledge of their characters, or
that it would be well received, if we may not rather
say, with the fear that it would be ill received.
As a heroine, we are aware this must for ever let
her down ; nevertheless, the whole of her motives
should be appreciated before she is condemned.
There was in fact a little secret in them, which
although her heart perhaps knew it very well, it had
not yet dared to whisper to her understanding. I
know not why, except that heart and understanding
are frequently at variance, without either of them
being much in the wrong for being so.
In a word then, this Melainee de Montauban, (if
it was she ) about her own age, who would willingly
have lent her all the things she had, and who would
like her so, if she could but see her; who had indeed
actually seen her, and seemed to like her — who
was she ? That she was good-natured, young, ele-
gant, and secluded, and probably therefore desirous
of a companion of her own age, appeared clear; that
with such a name, she could not be meanly derived
was likely ; that she was innocent, was to be hoped :
yet who was the carissimo amico ?
It must be owned the latter, though it a little
puzzled the Doctor, weighed not a feather against
the other considerations with his daughter; and the
sanguine, affectionate, and perhaps too romantic
Georgina, could not help believing, as she wished.
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153
that she was on the eve of realizing the only want of
her life, in finding a person of her own age and sex?
whom she might love, and confide in, and call by the
name of friend.
On their approach to the house, the sound of the
harp, and two voices in exquisite harmony, charmed
their ears and arrested their progress.
The voices proceeded from the room into which
Georgina had been ushered, and the windows being
open, the visitors had opportunity for a few moments
to distinguish the music and the words. They com-
posed an air which was familiar both to Evelyn and
his daughter. The words were addressed
TO A NATURAL CHILD.
Oh toi qui n’eut jamais du naitre !
“ Gage trop cher d’un fol amour,
“ Puisses tu ne jamais connoitre
<c L’erreur qui te donna le jour.
“ Que ton enfance, goute en silence
<l Le bonheur qui pour elle est fait;
“ Et que l’Envie, toute ta vie
“ Ignore ou taise ton secret.”
I don’t like these words at all, thought Evelyn.
All reflections however were spared, by their being
discerned by the ladies, who had heard the trampling
of the horses, and ran instantly to the windows, from
which the youngest as instantly retreated.
A very well mannered and well attired soubrette
came to the little gate, to ask their commands ; and as
the ladies from having been seen, could not well be
h 5
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TREMAINE.
denied, (at least not in a forest in 'Yorkshire,) upon
asking if they were at home, the party were admitted.
To Georgina’s concern however, upon being shewn
into the sitting-room, they were received by her cold
acquaintance alone ; for the touching and intelligent
inconnue had fled, or been forced to fly.
The Doctor, with a mixture of frankness and
ceremony, which were sometimes not unbecomingly
blended in him, made his obeisance to the lady of
the house.
“ I am come, Madam,” said he, u though I have
not even the honour of knowing your name, to return
you my best thanks for the refuge your house was so
kindly allowed to afford my daughter.”
u My name,” said the lady, with polite but not
over-warm civility, u is Rochfbrd ; and 1 shall always
feel pleasure that any thing belonging to me could
give accommodation to Miss Evelyn. I have how-
ever no right to assume even the small merit of receiv-
ing her, since I had not the pleasure of being at
home when the storm overtook her.”
“ The merit of servants,” answered the Doctor,
<£ is always that of their employers. I have however
I own another motive for doing myself this honour,
a little less disinterested 1 fear than gratitude.”
Mrs. Rochford not perceiving his meaning, he
added with an air of gallantry, “ though in the midst
of neighbours, we know all the value of comparison,
and have sufficient relish for refined and elegant
society, to court it wherever it appears. We are
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155
fortunate therefore in the forms of the world,” con-
tinued he, u which enables. us as old inhabitants to
pay our respects (without I hope being thought too
forward,) to those who are so good as, to settle
among us.”
Mrs. Rochford was softened by his address, and
by the speaking looks of Georgina, which seemed
to second it, and replied in terms, which though
guardedly general, shewed that she possessed the
ease and tone de la parfaitement bonne compagnie.
After this the conversation languished, the lady of
the house shewing no disposition to keep it alive,
when, Georgina vexed at not being allowed to
see her wished-for friend, fairly asked if she might
not be permitted to pay her compliments to the young
lady she had before seen.
66 To see her once,” added Georgina, €e is only
to wish to see her again, and as we had a glimpse of
her at the window as we came up, I both presume as
w r ell as hope that Miss Rochford is not ill.”
“ Her name is not Rochfprd,” answered Mrs.
Rochford, coolly ; Ck and she is so young, so little used
to company, so occupied, and indeed so methodical
in her studies, that 1 trust you will not take it ill if
she does not break a rule, by appearing in society.”
“ And yet so formed to add to its pleasures!” said
Georgina, with a look of mortification and surprise.
61 All in good time,” observed Mrs. Rochford with
an air of decision, mixed with civility; 66 she is yet
extremely inexperienced.”
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TREMAINE.
■ a There is no keeping these young ladies back,”
said Evelyn, smiling significantly. u Miss Evelyn
there has been as eloquent in her praises, as she is
eager to cultivate her acquaintance: she tells me she
is about her own age, and we must not wonder
therefore if she thinks her quite fit for the world.”
Mrs. Rochford with seriousness replied, she be“
lieved her to be much younger, and they were sensi-
ble of the honour Miss Evelyn did them; but she
shewed no marks of relenting in her decision.
cc Can we not prevail?” said Evelyn, looking at
the harp, and the music-books still open. “ We
have at least something in common between us, for
we are all musicians. Music has often been blamed
for levelling ranks too much, and introducing us into
bad company; it will be extremely hard if it may not
be allowed to make some expiation, by lending itself
as a link to good.”
©
a I am really distressed,” said Mrs. Rochford, tc to
appear so ill bred, so insensible to what I feel a very
high honour both to myself and this young lady ;
but I am sure I need not impress upon a gentleman
of your character and good sense, either the value of
good rules, or the folly of breaking them.”
She said this with a gravity which put an end to
all farther attempt to gratify the favourite object of
Georgina; who, with her father, soon afterwards
took her leave, and was allowed to depart by Mrs.
Rochford, not only without opposition, but without
expressing the smallest wish that the intercourse
should be renewed.
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157
They returned home, each in silent meditation
upon the event of their visit, and each endeavouring
to explain its mystery, according to their own notions.
Georgina imagined that something remarkable, but
wholly consistent with innocence, hung over the fate
of her wished-for friend; her father thought there
might be reasons for this strictness, not over creditable
to the younger stranger, and still less to the elder.
His reasons, however, he kept to himself.
CHAP. XVI.
MORE AND MORE MYSTERIOUS.
“ But whatsoe’er you are,
“ Who, hid in desert inaccessible,
“ Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
“ Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time.”
SHAKSPEAHE.
Georgina’s disappointment weighed upon her
mind for some days, and was not lessened by her
not seeing Tremaine during the interval; nor was
her curiosity to know the reason of this at all cured,
by being informed by her father (who went over to
Woodington on purpose to visit him,) that he had
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gone to York, upon what business nobody could
tell; and when to return, nobody had been informed.
u I am glad, however,” said Evelyn, “ to find he is
so active as to think of any business at all.”
The fourth day after the visit to the house in
Somerville Wood, Georgina was surprised by the
following letter, which the butler who delivered it
told her had been brought by a gardener-looking
man, who said it required no answer.
To Miss Evelyn.
u An imperious sense of duty must weigh so much
with a lady who herself performs every duty so well,
that Miss Evelyn will, I trust, excuse a liberty in
thus addressing her, which yet I have a thousand
fears in taking. Your politeness to myself, your
kind interest about the amiable child over whom I
watch with all a parent’s solicitude, your father’s
attentions, and admirable character, all conduce to
make this effort one of the most painful I ever
resolved upon; nor is it the least difficulty I have to
struggle with, that she whose heart would seek your’s,
both from what she has heard, and what she has
seen, is penetrated with grief at the decision. Strange,
however, and bold as it may appear, I am compelled
to forego the honour which you condescend to design
for us, in your valuable acquaintance; and all that I
can hope from this explanation is, that you will ac-
quit me of what, believe me I do not deserve, an
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159
indifference to its favour, or an insensibility to its
worth. I might with perhaps less awkwardness have
obtained my object, by profiting by the ceremonial
of the world, and not returning your visit. But
though my duty to another might then have been
equally performed, it would have been so at the ex-
pence of what I owe to myself; which would have
been miserably neglected, if I had left such a person
as Miss Evelyn to imagine me, what I never can be,
44 The ungrateful
44 Caroline Rochford.”
“ Somerville Wood,
August 10th, 1814.”
To describe the interest, the emotion of Geor-
gina on reading this letter, would not be easy. The
mingled candour and mystery that belonged to it
combined to fill her with surprise, and at the same
time concern.
She immediately sought her father, her counsellor
in all difficulties, and asked him what he thought
of it.
44 Think of it !” said he, ce why as I must of
every thing that belongs to your strange sex, for you
are all of ye inexplicable. Seriously, however, the
letter is a good letter, and I shall be very glad if
the lady is a good lady; but all this we must leave
to time.”
u Meanwhile,” said Georgina with sadness, 44 all
my hope of Melainie, if she is Melainie, must be
given up.”
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“ 1 fear so,” returned Evelyn : “ you would not
be so uncivil as to force your acquaintance.”
66 The letter,” replied Georgina, u no where looks
as if it would be rejected on its own account.”
u I should be surprised, my love, if it did,” said
Evelyn, u for your friendship, girl, would do honour
to an empress.”
Georgina affected, kissed her father’s hand, and
observing her concern, he bade her be quiet till he
had at least discovered who these ladies were; u and
I think,” said he, u I may get some clue to it, when
Tremaine returns, for 1 know at least the house
which they inhabit belongs to him.” Then, added
he laughing, 66 Mrs. Rochford is still a very hand-
some woman ; and who knows that there may not be
perhaps in contemplation a nearer connection be-
tween them than we are aware of?”
The Doctor spoke in jest; but these words, some-
how or another, sunk deep into the mind and heart
of Georgina. %
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161
CHAP. XVII.
MOST MYSTERIOUS OF ALL.
(C Rumour is a pipe,
c< Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures ;
And of so easy and so plain a stop,
“ That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
“ The still discordant, wavering multitude,
ii Can play upon it.”
SHAKSPEARE.
Now it happened unfortunately, that while his
reverend friend had unwittingly as it were laid this
train, another friend, not quite so reverend, was
ready to set fire to it, and actually did set fire to it,
so that Mr, Tremaine was blown up, and already in
the air, before he knew where he was.
This friend was no other than Monsieur Dupuis,
of honourable memory ; and we proceed to detail,
step by step, how great things may spring from trivial
causes ; and if peace was once given to Europe, and
the whole kingdom of France, grand monarque and
all, was once saved by a quarrel between two court
ladies, what wonder that a marriage in private life
should be retarded, or prevented altogether, by a
valet de chambre and a waiting-maid ?
m
TREMAINE.
We have related, that from the intimacy of the
housekeepers of Woodington and Evelyn Hall, the
transactions of the one family soon found their way
to the other ; and chiefly through the communica-
tions of Mrs. Margaret Winter; who, to do her
justice, had hitherto found nothing but good to
relate of Woodington and its master.
The truth of this history however obliges us to
confess, that some communications, which about this
time Mrs. Margaret had occasion to make, did not
end to the advantage of Tremaine. For as Mrs*
Margaret’s mind was extremely just, without ever
having read Cicero, she had arrived, by a sort of
natural instinct, at one of the best moral conclusions
of that learned heathen : I mean, that the relator of
history should not only never dare to tell a false-
hood, but should not dare to conceal the truth.
Hence, although she had abundantly communicated
what had turned out to Tremaine’s credit ; such as
his kindness to his tenants, and servants, his paying
all the expences of a law-suit for a poor man, whose
family had been oppressed by a rich neighbour,
and his frequent helps to decayed gentlemen, chiefly
officers who had served with him in the army ; yet
she at length related some trails and anecdotes,
which at any time would have been disagreeable
to Georgina, but which in her present frame of mind
filled her with inexpressible concern.
The traits related to principles, the anecdote to
conduct ; and both will shew how much more de-
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163
pendant we are than any one is aware of, or rather
how entirely every one lives at the mercy of his ser-
vants ; how cautious therefore he ought to be to
square his life to the rules of propriety.
Mrs. Watson, Tremaine’s housekeeper, was na-
turally a good and grave woman, and not much
more given to canvass her superiors or neighbours,
(in other words to gossiping) than other house-
keepers, who have little to do, generally are. She
loved a little talk, but loved her Bible more ; and as
in her present mode of life Monsieur Dupuis was
almost her only companion, and Mrs. Winter her
only visitor, she had much time for her favourite
study, which began very seriously to lay hold of her
mind.
Her progress in religion was not quiescent ; and
as her own fervour increased, she was struck with
the desire of communicating it to others, and far
above the rest, (as in fact he most wanted it) to her
coadjutor and constant inmate, Monsieur Dupuis.
We shall not stop to enquire into the reasonable-
ness of an English protestant housekeeper, not over
well educated herself) hoping to convert a careless,
not to say licentious French catholic valet de charn-
bre to religion and virtue. We only agree in one
part of her speculation, that as far as the necessity
for conversion went, there could scarcely be a better
subject than the one she pitched upon. For having
also much time upon his hands, he endeavoured,
after Mrs. Watson’s example, to fill up some of it
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with reading. But his subjects were generally the
reverse of that good woman’s ; his favourite books
being the Contes de Voltaire, Les Laisons Ban-
gereuses, Faublas, La Pucelle, and the like — if like
there be to those distinguished works.
The pious Watson, ’tis true, did not understand
a syllable of these studies, except as to their ten-
dency, which she very soon found was any thing
but what appertained to the improvement of morals,
or the confirmation of faith. As she indeed wished
to convert Monsieur Dupuis, so the valet, who was
somewhat espiegle in his nature, thought it but a
fair return of kindness to endeavour to unconvert
her ; and accordingly, to the best of his power, he
related to her the stories, or translated the senti-
ments which he found so peiillant in his favourite
authors.
This produced reproof, and then disputes, in
which the refined valet was so impenetrable to the
religious housekeeper, that in despair, as well as
zeal, she threatened to complain of his principles to
his master. Monsieur Dupuis was always amused
at this, and bursting into laughter, u Ha! ha!” he
Would say, u you complain of de scholar for learn
to read, to de master who teach him. Begar, my
master he read all dese book himself ; he tink Vol-
taire and Rousseau, and Monsieur Louvet, les
meilleurs ecrivains du monde : my master be de
man of pleasure comme moi, and he no believe a
word of your religion at all.”
TREMAINE.
165
Shocked at this, as far as she understood it, the
well-meaning housekeeper would ask for his autho-
rity, when he would very succinctly tell her that he
had heard Tremaine over and over again give his
opinions upon all these subjects, in various conver-
sations with his friends at table, which had first set
him (the valet,) upon reading these authors, whom
he had heard so much praised : and that as to his
being a man of pleasure, he knew what he knew,
but would never be indiscrete
Indignant, (for Watson loved her master too well
to be very patient under this) she would provoke
him still more, by asserting her utter disbelief of any
thing he professed to know to Tremaine’s discredit ;
till at length the discretion of the valet giving way
to his vanity, he told her, to his certain knowledge,
his master at that instant kept a mistress, a very
beautiful woman, not many miles off, by whom he
had two children, one of them a little boy at school,
for whom he had actually himself been sent, when
he accompanied his master to York a few days
before, and that he was afterwards conveyed to his
mother, to pass the summer holidays with her.
Monsieur Dupuis added, that if she did not believe
him, she might ask Jonathan, who had ridden there
with his master last week, and had actually seen the
lady. “I no see her, but Jonathan say she vas ver
prit, only leetel too old.”
Struck with this intelligence, the still doubting
housekeeper took the first opportunity to ask the
166
TREMAINE.
groom what he knew, who told her very fairly that
he knew very little, only that he had lately attend-
ed his master to York, who sent Monsieur Dupuis
to some other place for a little boy, with whom they
had all returned to within ten miles of Woodington;
when Monsieur Dupuis was sent home in the car-
riage, while his master proceeded with the child in a
hired chaise, and himself on horseback, to a house in
SomervilleWood ; that a mile short of the house the
chaise stopt, and he (the groom) was sent on with the
little boy and a letter in the chaise, while his master
waited his return in the wood ; that he delivered
his charge and the letter to a very handsome lady,
between thirty and forty, who was accompanied by a
young girl, as beautiful as the day ; that they seemed
overjoyed at meeting the little boy, and at receiving
the letter ; that the child called the young lady, sister,
and said he had left papa only a mile off, at which the
young lady seemed much disappointed, and said oh !
mamma, why did he not come ?
This was all the groom knew. But it was
enough, and too much, as Watson thought.
Overpowered by these circumstances of persons,
time, and place, she had nothing to oppose to it,
and with a sigh, yielded her belief to the assertion
of Monsieur Dupuis, consoling herself as well as
she could, by regularly, in her prayers, remembering
her master’s reform.
And here the matter might have rested, for the
good creature was sufficiently discreet to intend not
TREMAINE.
167
to divulge it, had not that intention been opposed
by a temptation which flesh and blood (at least the
flesh and blood of a housekeeper) could not with-
stand.
This temptation appeared in the shape of her
fellow housekeeper, Mrs. Winter, before mentioned;
who however would perhaps have not succeeded in
drawing out the secret, if even she had not been
furnished with a very powerful auxiliary.
In fact, these good women had long sat in judg-
ment together upon the interests, characters, and
family views of their respective superiors ; and
whether from the dearth of more suitable parties for
each, or from the convenience of the thing, or from
the mere circumstance that Tremaine and Georgina
were both single, and saw one another very fre-
quently, without seeing any one else, both the wise
dames agreed that a match sooner or later must
take place between them.
66 What though he is a little too old,” said Mrs.
Watson, as she poured out the tea one evening, (for
it was generally over that genial repast that these
councils were held,) u I assure you he is all the
fashion in London, is generally out with the gayest
all the night long ; and there is no young lady that
would not be glad to have him. There was Miss
Neville and my Lady Gertrude had like to have fit
about him, and it was only stopt by his saying he
would have neither on ’em. I heard it all from
Lady Gertrude’s own woman, who used to visit me
J 68
TREMAINE.
in Berkeley Square, as you may be doing now, Mrs.
Winter.”
u Oh ! as to that,” replied the ruler of Evelyn
Hall, “ I always says a few years more or less
doesn’t signify at all, provided there’s character,
and things are agreeable. And Miss Georgina, she
is of the same opinion ; for though she can laugh
and dance all night, and is ready sometimes to jump
over the moon, yet she can stay three hours together
poring over books, some of them quite outlandish,
which the Doctor has taught her, and which they
say your master, Mrs. Watson, understands very
well. We thought once of .Lord St. Clair for her,
being as he is young, and lying quite handy like to
our estate ; and ould Lady St. Clair would have
thought of it too, but Miss Georgy declared to her
father that she could not abide them buckish
lords, and would never have a rantipole young
man for a husband.”
Thus did these sage females, in relating to each
other what they perhaps rather wished than thought
likely, much less knew for a certainty, settle a con-
nection not unimportant to their own interests : for
let it not be supposed that they would either of
them have taken all this trouble, and planned so
many meetings upon it, if to those interests the
thing had not been agreeable.
Mrs. Watson wished it, because she had foreseen
long that Tremaine ought to marry ; and though an
exceedingly honest domestic, she did not relish the
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1G<J
thought of a mistress, either very experienced in
point of age, or a total stranger, or of very high
quality ; all which she concluded might greatly
interfere with her habits and ease : and measuring
what she desired, by what she did not , Miss Evelyn
was the very thing for her.
Mrs. Margaret wished it, from the sheer ambition
of returning to her place of sole directress of the
Doctor’s family, which she had filled with great
dignity and comfort, until Georgina attained the
age of seventeen, when her master had taken the
reins from her, in order to place them in the hands
of his daughter.
Such were the motives of domestic policy which
governed these good ladies ; motives which were at
least as innocent and natural, and as much, perhaps
more, disguised from themselves, as well as con-
cealed from the world, as those which prompt much
higher persons in the parts they play in the drama
of public life.
The two housekeepers being thus in alliance, and
perpetual consultation upon this point, (quite as
important to them as the Congress of Vienna to the
little states of Europe,) and a frank disclosure oi
their sentiments having mutually taken place, it
became next to impossible for one of them to
change her opinion upon the great subject, and
conceal either the change or the reason for it, from
the other: and hence, exclusive of the love of talking
which one elderly female naturally feels when she
VOL. II. i
170
TREMAINE.
sees another, the discretion of Mrs. Watson was
more than commonly tempted as to the momentous
discovery that has been detailed, from the mere
sight of one who seemed to have such a right to her
confidence.
To do the Woodington housekeeper justice,
she was far from burning with desire to commu-
nicate the news to any part of the Evelyn Hall
family, and eluded two several opportunities of
drinking tea with Mrs. Winter, for the direct pur-
pose of avoiding the disclosure ; but she could not
break off the alliance, and at the very first meeting,
the question being resumed with more than common
warmth by Georgina’s vicegerent, the grave chef of
Woodington was obliged at once to confess her
fears, that all their speculations were wrong, and
that whatever Miss Georgina might feel, Mr. Tre-
maine neither had, nor ever could have any thoughts
of her.
tc He may go farther, and fare worse,” said Mrs.
Winter, with something like indignation ; but upon
being informed of the reasons for her ally’s suppo-
sition, and her authority for those reasons, she was
forced to allow their cogency, discovered an evident
impatience to get home, and when at home, an equal
impatience for her mistress’s bell at night — when,
during the few minutes attendance which Georgina’s
undressing required, the most favourite, or at least
the most confidential period of this gentlewoman’s
life, generally occurred.
TREMAINE.
171
We will pass, in our hurry to come to other
matters, the mode in which the faithful Winter,
jealous for her own as well as her lady’s honour, (for
Winter assumed to herself the credit of a great deal
of Tremaine’s footing with Georgina,) first led to
the subject, and afterwards made the communication
in question. It is sufficient that Tremaine, on the
authority of Winter, Watson, Dupuis, and Jona-
than, (enough to sink down any poor devil at the
Old Bailey) was convicted before Georgina of
having a mistress, or a concealed wife, and two
children, eight or ten miles off ; and Georgina was
deprived of her entire night’s rest in consequence of
the news.
Having sighed to her pillow upon it, for many
hours, she was forced to confess that the mystery of
the Somerville Woodhouse was now cleared up. and
that her father’s loose hint was dreadfully con-
firmed.
Two whole days she pondered this matter, and
two whole days she saw not Tremaine. The young
heart ot Georgina never before knew so much of
itself. Winter was not only not repressed, but even
encouraged to talk of the subject ; at least as far as
perfect attention went. For though she professed
to say she supposed it mere idle gossip, and not
possible to be true, she listened with profound in-
terest to all the proofs which Winter brought, to
shew that it could not be false.
In the midst of these doubts, a letter from her
172
TREMAINE.
new friend, or rather acquaintance, Mrs. Neville,
plunged her into fresh difficulties.
It began by a very cordial invitation to the races
at D, which were to be uncommonly well attended,
and where she made a point, she said, of assembling
as much beauty, elegance, and talent, as her influ-
ence would permit : that her party was made, but
could not be perfect without Georgina. u I would
also,” she added, u ask your neighbour Mr. Tre-
maine, but really he has of late grown so uncouth,
and towards me so capricious, that he gives me no
encouragement : besides, from what I hear of him,
I fear more than ever it would be entreaty thrown
away. The reports are indeed most strange about
him, though very inconsistent Avith one another. One
is, that he has long been either secretly married, or
has entertained a mistress, who has followed him
from Northamptonshire, and by whom he has two
children. As to the marriage, I have reason to
believe that false, whatever the other may be. But
what is most confidently said is still more surprising.
He was always you know eccentric ; thinking and
acting like no other man. No woman of his ac-
quaintance comes up, it seems, to his standard as a
wife ; yet a wife he is resolved to have, (’tis time at
least ;) and I am credibly informed he is now en-
gaged in the romantic and nonsensical task of
educating a young girl, (nobody knows who,) for
the express purpose of loving him, and making in
time a suitable companion for so very great a man.
TREMAINE.
173
This, as both he and his fair Indiana are in your
neighbourhood, you probably know, and I shall be
gratified by hearing the particulars. I must say
however, if true, Lady Gertrude Bellenden has
been most shamefully used by him ; you of course
know all that affair. Be that as it may, I would
have you, my dear Miss Evelyn, be on your guard
against this Mr. Bevil, (a) who, though he affronts
half the sex by his high demands upon them, only
gives himself the more consequence with those whom
he does condescend to distinguish ; and report says
(which who can be surprised at) that of all the fair
damsels to whom he has offered his attentions, none
ever occupied him so much as his charming neigh-
bour, with the exception of the poor devoted thing
to whom I have alluded. Be assured however that
Mr. Bevil, with all his sentiment, is a most fickle be-
ing, and I pity the young creature he has immured,
only perhaps to send her back into the world, disap-
pointed and unhappy.”
Poor Georgina was in a labyrinth of contending
conjectures, upon the receipt of this letter.
Was the young inconnue, who had so much
touched her heart, fated then to destroy its growing
and happy feelings towards the only person for
whom she had yet felt any thing like partiality : or
was she a daughter, and not an intended wife — and
(a) Alluding I suppose to the romantic Bevil and Indiana of the
Conscious Lovers. Editor.
174
TREMAINE.
if so, was the accomplished Mrs. Rochford, either as
wife or mistress, the possessor of his affections ? —
Which of them, or was either of them, Melainee de
Montauban ?
These were puzzling questions : —
66 Ah !” exclaimed Georgina, 66 whether as a mis-
tress or an intended wife, it is evident some other
female ”
The thought, unaccountably to herself, made her
heart sick, and at last burst from her lovely eyes in
tears, as precious perhaps as innocence in distress
ever yet shed. She felt ashamed, and recovered,
but was plunged the whole morning in a reverie
which did her no good, and only escaped her father’s
knowledge from his being out upon some county bu-
siness, during the greater part of the day.
Arrived at home, he was struck with the most seri-
ous concern, at observing a sadness on the brow of
his loved girl, which he had never before witnessed.
Two questions drew the whole from her; for not
only were there no secrets between these two persons,
so endeared both by relationship and love to each
other, but Georgina felt a relief to her swoln heart,
by instantly giving the confidence desired.
The trembling, or at least blushing interest she
evidently took in Mrs. Neville’s letter, confirmed as
it was by Winter’s communication, inspired the
good Doctor indeed with a thought which did not
occasion him less uneasiness, because it had never
struck him before ; or because it now sprang into his
TREMAINE.
175
mind, accompanied with all the mortifying draw-
backs which this story (now confirmed on all sides,)
presented to his belief. To think of it, under either
of the shapes presented, embarrassed ; but to think
of it with the influence he began to fear it might
have on his daughter’s happiness, absolutely afflicted
him. He became as serious as Georgina herself,
and when they parted for the night, lie resolved upon
two things; to ascertain the exact state of his
daughter’s heart, and to clear up, at any cost, the
whole mystery that hung over Mrs. Rochford and her
daughter, if her daughter she was.
The first he deferred for a proper opportunity,
fully aware of all that delicacy and affection required
of him ; the last he determined to proceed upon
without delay.
CHAP. XVIIT.
DECISION.
<tf This above all, to thy own self be true,
(( And it must follow as the night the day,
“ Thou never canst be false to any man.”
SHAKSPEARE.
And how did he proceed upon it?
In the very spirit of his character
i 4
for with that
176
TREMAINE.
straightforwardness which belonged to him, having
desired Georgina to give him Mrs. Neville’s letter,
he resolved to lay it at once before his friend, and to
leave him to give his contidence upon it, or not,
as he pleased.
This indeed was a very simple method, (and as
many people will think) not at all worthy of a man
of his abilities and endowments : it was what any
child might have hit upon. But in fact, with all his
endowments, we are forced to confess, that in simpli-
city of heart at least Evelyn was a child.
What he so promptly resolved he soon endeavoured
to perform ; for an opportunity arose the very next
day, by a self-invitation to dinner, which Tremaine
sent over in the morning to Evelyn Hall.
The Doctor determined in that very visit to sound
him, and acquainted Georgina with his determi-
nation.
“ And yet,” said he, “ I know not the right we
have to force his confidence.”
ce None at all,” said Georgina.
cc It is material however,” continued he, “ to settle
it ; for if there is a mistress in the case, the freedom
of our intercourse will be not so proper.”
“ Certainly not,” said Georgina firmly.
Tremaine came with the empressement with which
he had always come of late ; lamented that he had
been separated from them for so many days ; that he
had never liked absence so little, and had flown
home with a pleasure he had seldom felt.
TREMAINE.
177
u I am at least glad of your resumed activity,’’
said the Doctor : “ your business however must have
been important, to have taken you to York !”
“ It was a little duty I had to perform,” answered
he, “and I trust neither of you will quarrel with me
for having so well profited by the lessons you have
given me. You see,” and here he fixed his eyes
on Georgina, “ I venture to suppose I have a mis-
tress, as well as a master in practical philosophy.”
Mistress was a word which Georgina never liked
so little ; she looked grave, and was silent.
“ A mistress !” exclaimed Evelyn in a kind of
ejaculation, half to himself, half aloud.
A constrained sort of pause ensued, in which Tre-
maine thought both his friends appeared to have
something on their minds.
The dinner being over, and Georgina withdrawn,
“ Pray,” said Evelyn, after a little thought, “ is not
a house in Somerville Wood, in which two ladies have
come to reside, a late purchase of yours ?”
“ If you mean an old house, newly sashed, at the
end of an avenue,” replied Tremaine with a good
deal of surprise, “ it is.”
“You are acquainted I suppose with your tenants ?”
continued the Doctor.
“ All good landlords ought to be,” answered the
catechist, with however increasing wonder. “ But
pray, may I ask in my turn, why these questions ?
Are you acquainted with them yourself?”
i 5
178
TREMAINE.
“My daughter has found them out,” answered
Evelyn.
“ Found them out !”
“ Yes ! and introduced me to them, and a very
scurvy reception they gave us.”
“This is most extraordinary!” said Tremaine,
and he bit his lips violently.
Evelyn then proceeded to relate Georgina’s ad-
venture, and the impression which the younger lady
had made upon her : “ Now I, for my part, not
having seen her, could not help admiring the elder,
who says her name is Rochford.”
“ She is,” said Tremaine, “ a very superior wo-
man ; I have known her many years.”
“We are however,” observed Evelyn, “anxious,
particularly my daughter, to know the name of her
young companion.”
“And did not Mrs. Rochford tell you?” cried
Tremaine.
“She was so exceedingly reserved,” said Evelyn,
“that Georgina did not dare to ask.”
“ Her name,” replied Tremaine, recovering his
tranquillity, “is Melainee de Montauban.”
“ Foreign, I presume ?” observed Evelyn.
“One of her parents is French,” returned Tre-
maine ; and he said no more.
Another pause ensued, which lasted some minutes.
“ My good friend,” said the Doctor, “ I meant
not to be as impertinent as I fear I have been.
TREMAINE.
179
The interest which these charming women have ex-
cited in my daughter, has led me, I see, too far. I
beseech you to excuse it : I certainly have no right
to pry into secrets.”
u I have no secrets,” said Tremaine, and they
again were silent. The Doctor had said enough for
his friend to open, if he would. It was friendship
not curiosity that had made him speak, and finding
the overture not taken, he changed the conversa-
tion.
At coffee, Tremaine was absent and Georgina
constrained. Each seemed glad that Evelyn began
to talk upon gardening, in which they allowed him to
have all the talk to himself. Tremaine looked over
some new music, and Georgina, at an open window,
was busy with a rose-bush on the outside, which for
the life of her she could not settle to her liking.
At length Tremaine took his leave.
The eyes of Georgina were immediately turned
upon her father.
6C I have not succeeded,” said he, “ except to dis-
cover that he has known Mrs. Rochford long, speaks
highly of her, and that your young friend is half
French.”
“ Half French !” cried Georgina.
“ Yes ! that is, one of her parents is of that
nation, and she is Melainee de Montau'oan.”
Oh! this carissimo amico ! thought Georgina. She
looked again at her father.
u I know no more,” said he, 6i I could not
180
TREMAINE.
wish to make a man speak of his own affairs, against
his will.”
u My dear father,” replied Georgina, “ you did
as you always do, right.’ ’
u That is a very good creed for a daughter,” ob-
served Evelyn, assuming a playful aspect. He then
kissed her, and to drive away thought, proposed
trying the new music; which finished the evening.
In the retirement of her chamber, Georgina taxed
herself severely for the selfishness of her curiosity.
Should Mrs. Rochford be his mistress, said she,
what can that be to me, except indeed that such a
man should so ill conduct himself? But Mrs. Roch-
ford is not French, and Melainee cannot therefore
be her daughter ! —May she not however be so by
some French lady, who alive or dead, legitimately or
illegitimately, may have been bound to him !
This thought did not please.
Could Melainee herself be a mistress, and Mrs.
Rochford her duenna ! — Impossible ! — And yet why
this mystery ? this seclusion ?
This thought pleased still less.
Was Melainee a wife ? — fully as distressing ! And
yet why ? There was then no dishonour ; she must
soon be acknowledged, and she may yet be my
friend.
This reflection was consolatory, and she dwelt upon
it. I fear, thought she, I have been sadly weak,
and as selfish as weak. Mr. Tremaine is nothing to
me : for his own sake, I hope there is no impropriety
TREMAINE.
1SJ
of conduct, and his engaging wife I am sure I shall
' o r> o
love.
Thus did a virtuous mind bring itself round ; and
thus a heart that placed its happiness in loving and
being loved, righted itself, after a tumult that had
threatened its tranquillity, by reposing upon what it
was at least certain was good, although it might be
the only good in the affair.
In this train of mind, after commending herself
fervently to Heaven, this excellent young creature
sank into slumber, which was sweet and refreshing ;
and Evelyn had the happiness of seeing her next
morning, placid and cheerful, if not with her usual
gaiety, at the breakfast table.
The good Doctor, though much the greater rea-
soner of the two, and the better philosopher, had
himself not been nearly so composed. As a divine,
a good shepherd, and a friend, he feared for Tre-
maine. If either lady were a mistress, it was his
duty to interpose : duty for his own. and his daugh-
ter’s sake, as well as Tremaine’s. If Melainee
could be an object of seduction ! — too horrible for
thought! Yet the world, particularly the fine men in
it, were so corrupt ! — In St. James’s Street it would
be thought nothing of ; and the French school
almost enjoined it ! — This however was soon dis-
missed. — That she might be designed for a wife was
far more probable. There was an eccentricity, if not
a waywardness, in almost all Tremaine’s actions of
life, that made Mrs. Neville’s report by no means
182
TREMAINE.
incredible. I must send him the substance of her
letter, said Evelyn.
Full of the design, he closed his study door, after
ordering a servant to get ready to go to Woodington,
and wrote as follows to Tremaine : —
“ You, who know all the rights and duties of
friendship, will I am sure not quarrel with me for
sending you the inclosed. Left to itself, I should
think it the tattle of a silly, if not the malice of a
wicked woman ; but coloured as in some measure it
is by time, person, and place, in all that belongs to
the house in Somerville Wood, both the interest I
take in my school-fellow, friend, and neighbour, and
my duty to her who is the prop and solace of my life,
forbid me to be silent. When I tell you that my
daughter has been eager to conciliate the friendship
of the ladies your tenants, ever since she saw them,
and that she almost rests a part of her happiness on
being permitted to cultivate the interesting Melainee,
your own rectitude will forgive my asking as far as I
may, some account of these ladies. That my friend
is scandalized by Mrs. Neville, and the reports of the
neighbourhood, I have no doubt, and he perhaps
might thank me for enabling him to put down scan-
dal at once, by a frank explanation. My dear Tre-
maine will however distinctly understand, that ex-
planation at the expence of either feeling or confi-
dence is not what I seek. My simple question is,
as a father, to know, whether Miss Evelyn may with-
out impropriety give indulgence to the prepossessions
TREMAINE. 183
and wishes with which her new neighbours have
inspired her.”
This, and a copy of Mrs. Neville’s communication,
with the omission of that part which related to
Georgina herself, were made into a packet by the
Doctor, and dispatched to Tremaine.
He was hurt and perplexed at the receipt of it,
which he strove at first, though in vain, to attribute
to an improper curiosity. But this, not only his
natural candour, and respect for Evelyn forbade, but
other sentiments towards Evelyn’s daughter for ever
banished from his mind. The delicate, the well
judging Georgina could never act from an impure
motive; and it was evident from her father’s mode of
putting it, that she in fact was interested to know
the characters of persons whose acquaintance she
had solicited, while all the fault and all the mischief
rested with Mrs. Neville.
How often he gave that lady to the devil, it is
useless to enquire ; how often he paced his chamber,
and went in and out of doors, the better to consult
his own thoughts, it is difficult to remember. It is
sufficient to say, that having more than three several
times begun a letter to the Doctor, for which he
detained his messenger, he at last sent the man away
with a verbal compliment, that he would return an
answer by a messenger of his own. The whole of the
morning was past in writing, and indeed it was evening
before a servant from W oodington delivered to Evelyn
a packet, which we shall now set before our readers.
184
TREMAINE.
CHAP. XIX.
A PLAIN TALE.
“ Speak it here ;
“ There’s nothing I have done yet, o’ my conscience
“ Deserves a corner.”
“ Noble lady,
“lam sorry my integrity should breed
“ So deep suspicion.”
SHAKSPEARE.
To Dr. Evelyn.
u Those who know you can never suspect you of
an improper motive: those who know your daugh-
ter, must be anxious to clear away every thing that
may hang a cloud upon the least wish she can form.
Her desire to cultivate Melainee de Montauban, to
seek her as a companion, to love her as a friend, is not
only natural, but does honour to her taste. I am
mistaken, were it right that their acquaintance should
proceed, if happiness to both would not be the result ;
but I doubt if at present their wishes can be gratified :
and I feel constrained to think that Mrs. Rochford’s
decision is no more than proper. Accuse me not of
mystery, any more than misconduct. At the same
time I feel agonized that appearances should give
TREMAINE.
185
such support to the most wicked of surmises. I know
not who is most traduced, Mrs. Rochford, Melainee,
or myself. Little am I able to bear it on my own
account; still less on theirs. Their purity I have
sworn to defend. — Is my own honour less dear to me ?
“ Evelyn, you know not my perplexity. I feel
wounded more tenderly than perhaps you suspect;
yet I dare not defend myself. With you, I might
rest something upon confidence; but have I any
right to that confidence from another? — that other,
prejudiced as she must be by the surmises of an
interested, a daring, and manoeuvring woman? —
Can I be indifferent to my fame in a quarter which
has so much of my respect? — If I could bear the
condemnation of the world, could I also bear that
Miss Evelyn should think with that world ? That
world is saucy ; it takes liberties with innocent
women ! Shall he, who can proclaim their inno-
cence and his owm, submit in silence?
“No! mere caution, which, perhaps, after all is
unnecessary, shall not carry me so far. I depart
then from my first resolution, and you shall hear a
plain tale, which for ever must put to silence even
appearances and surmises, much more positive
slander. The friend whose injunctions impose upon
me the constraint I feel, would be the first, were he
to know our dilemma, to release us from a bur-
then, which he never foresaw would fall upon us.
“ Have you ever heard me mention the name of
Colonel Osmond? — the preserver of my life, and
186
TREMAINE.
when I was in want of it, the benefactor of my
fortune. Chivalry has scarcely painted a braver, a
more generous, or a more delicate spirit. The latter
lie carries to an excess, which may one day bear
hard on the happiness he deserves. Three great
interests divide his heart ; his country, his mistress,
and his friend. His purse was mine, when I had
none of my own ; his sword was mine, when I had
lost my own : he pushed my promotion ; he defended
my life. In the field of Vimeira, where my horse
was killed under me, and while entangled by the
fall, a lance was already at my heart ; this Osmond,
at the expence of his own blood, saved mine. ’Twas
the beginning of our friendship.
66 When I left the army, we corresponded by let-
ters. He was perpetually in adventures. Upon one
of them now depends his happiness or misery for ever.
u Y ou know how the events of war, which he seemed
born to control, led the most gallant of mankind be-
yond the bounds of the Pyrenees. His advance, how-
ever, was tracked in slaughter, and on the plains of
Vittoria Osmond was again doomed to bleed. He
was, indeed, left for dead on that sanguinary field, and
was only saved by an apparent enemy. He w T as con-
ducted to the Chateau of the Comte de Montauban,
a French nobleman established in Spain, where he
was nursed, cherished, and recovered. That nursing,
as it affected his peace, so it may for ever colour his
fate ; for Melainee de Montauban was his principal
attendant. Her mother, an English lady of a noble
TREMAINE.
187
house, had long been dead, and she was allowed by
her father to gratify her chief pleasure, in watching
over one whom she almost considered as a country-
man. She was then under fifteen. Whether her
young heart was touched with more than benevo-
lence towards a wounded, and at one time a dying
soldier, I know not, — but his own was penetrated,
first with gratitud?, then with love.
44 The Comte de Montauban was Bourbon in his
mind, and not the less so from his English connec-
tion, and his respect for England : Colonel Osmond
improved and wrought upon these dispositions. The
Comte opened a correspondence with the King of
France, and the cause promising success in the South,
too little caution was used in veiling his design. He
was seized and shot by the savage Soult ; his estates
confiscated, his whole family ruined.
44 Overwhelmed with this sudden reverse, Osmond
beheld the w 7 reck as if occasioned by himself ; and he
resolved to devote the life they had saved to the
family whose kindness to him had been so fatal to
themselves. The heir, a child of four or five years
old, and the lovely, the touching, the orphan Me-
lainee, he conveyed to England.
44 On the boy he settled a competent stipend : for
the attracting Melainee he had larger views. The
boy has often seen me, and calls, perhaps thinks me,
his father; but his sister I have scarcely permitted
myself to know T . In all that Colonel Osmond did,
he consulted me ; and confided to me, as the best
18B
TREMAItfE.
compensation he could make for the loss of her
parent, the design of bestowing upon her his whole
fortune, if at the same time he could have the happi-
ness to persuade her to receive himself as her husband
and protector for life.
u To this he was aware of all the difficulties that
might be opposed, but he reduced them all to this
single one, the uncertainty how far he might be able
to inspire her with corresponding affection. She
might be grateful indeed, but gratitude was a word
he would not hear of. u She must love, said he, as if
T were really and entirely her countryman ; only her
equal in fortune ; suitable in powers of attraction, in
the qualities she expects, and even in age. Without
this, (little as I may pretend to it) I cannot be her
husband, though 1 will always be her friend. At
the same time to open this design to her at her tender
age would only be to take advantage of her inex-
perience, and her grateful feelings, with which her
little heart absolutely runs over ; for softened as it is
by misfortune, and the loss of all whom she has been
accustomed to love, she has no one to fix it upon
but me. Oh ! that that may last !”
u Reasoning in this manner, Osmond did not dis-
guise to himself the difficulties he had also to con-
tend with, from his personal absence on service at a
time the most critical for his object. He was be-
sides totally unprovided with a proper asylum for
her, from having neither mother nor sister ; and
powerfully felt the necessity there was, that her
TREMAINE. 189
education, as yet but half finished, should still be
pursued.
“ Consulted, confided in, by this high-minded man,
my admired friend, my gallant preserver, could I be
wanting to his views? — No! 1 entered into them.
I was not unaware of the boldness of the expecta-
tion, that a girl of fifteen might be inspired with
love for a man of thirty, but alas ! my own age, and
still romantic heart, made me hope at least that
such a difference might be overcome.
ie I desired him to consign both children to me.
I swore to be the guardian of the friendless Me-
lainee, to watch over her safety, her improvement
and her fame, with the vigilance of a father ; and
meantime I had the good fortune to associate Mrs.
Rochford in my views. This lady, whom slander
has never yet touched, I had remembered as the
widow of an officer of rank, known both to me and
to Osmond. The superiority of her talents, her
sense, and her worth, added to the slender portion
with which her husband had left her, pointed her
out as designed almost by Providence for our ob-
ject.
a 1 asked and obtained leave to confide to her the
hopes, the romantic hopes of my friend. She rea-
dily, and kindly undertook to second them, and
what she undertook she has faithfully performed.
After the first interviews with Melainee, on yielding
her to Mrs. Rochford, I made a point never to see her
again. For mindful of the tender, the sacred duty
190
TREMAINE.
I had undertaken, I suggested to the latter lady the
propriety of keeping her pupil in the most absolute
retirement, and above all of secluding her until my
friend’s return, from the society of men. Single, un-
engaged, and romantic myself, could I do this with
such views, and permit my own visits ?
“It is now near two years since this plan has been
prosecuted : during the whole of that time, Colonel
Osmond has cultivated the mind, and I believe the
affection, of his young charge, by letters. He is
expected every instant. No man has hitherto in^
terfered with him ; and we hope to obtain the only
end we have proposed, by delivering her up to him,
at least free from all prepossession.
“ Such is the outline of a story, on which malice,
or wicked indifference to truth or falsehood, has
built so much. Whether we may not have been too
strict in declining for Melainee the society of her
own sex, as well as ours, may be made a question ;
but Mrs. Rochford’s fears that the one would cer-
tainly bring the other along with it, and her anxiety
to fulfil her engagement to Colonel Osmond, who
has been her very great benefactor, have made her
scrupulously exact in adhering to her plan, and
caused an apparent coldness to the overtures of the
most amiable young creature that ever God made.
“To that excellent creature, and to her alone, I
permit you to extend the confidence of this letter,
and if it has satisfied you, I suppose I may have the
pleasure of soon seeing you again.”
TREMAINE.
191
CHAP. XX.
SATISFACTION.
u He is complete in feature and in mind,
<c With all good grace, to grace a gentleman.”
SHAKSPEARE.
44 And what do you think of it?” said Evelyn to
his daughter, who read over his shoulder.
44 Think of it !” replied Georgina, with her eyes
suffused, 44 that he is one of the noblest and most
delicate of men !”
44 I agree,” said Evelyn, almost equally affected ;
44 we have done him wrong.”
44 Oh ! how much !” cried Georgina, and her eyes
could not restrain a flow of tears, that were the
signs of sweet remorse. They fell plentifully down
her cheek, nor did her father seek to check them.
44 My dear love,” said Evelyn, I cannot blame, I
could almost join you ;” and his own eyes caught
the sympathy. 44 It is certain he is a very noble
fellow !”
Georgina assented in a silence which lasted some
minutes.
Recovering herself, 44 how I wish,” she exclaimed,
44 for Colonel Osmond’s arrival ! I am sure I shall
192
TREMAINE.
like him : I think he need not be afraid of Melai-
nee,”
66 Why so ?” asked the Doctor.
ce He is so noble, so generous !”
u But he is above thirty !”
“ If he were more, that would be nothing.”
Evelyn gave his daughter a penetrating look,
which called up a little colour to her cheeks. She
however had no concealment, for she immediately
added, u besides ” but consciousness per-
haps would not let her go farther.
ee Besides what?” asked Evelyn good-humouredly.
“ He saved Mr. Tremaine’s life,” said Georgina.
u A very good reason why Mademoiselle de
Montauban should marry him,” returned the
Doctor.
Georgina’s confusion increased.
u We have injured our friend very much,” pur-
sued Evelyn.
“ Terribly !” said Georgina.
“And I long to make him the amende honour-
able,” concluded he, ringing the bell.
“ How ?”
66 By riding over to him this instant and begging
his pardon.”
His horse was soon at the door, and with himself
soon after, at Woodington, where the two friends
embraced ; and the Doctor did not return home till
after a long conversation, in which, amongst other
things that passed, it was resolved that Tremaine
TREMAINE.
193
should influence Mrs. Rochfort to relax in favour
of Georgina (though of her alone,) the strictness of
her rule.
The tidings were conveyed that night to Geor-
gina ; a night, which on more accounts than one,
she past very differently from the last.
In truth Tremaine’s explanations were not con-
fined to Melainee : there were other parts of Mrs.
Neville’s letter which filled him with indignation,
and he expressed it in no measured terms. His
expressions indeed were at first very general, but
amounted to little short of execration.
tc I observed your dislike to this lady at Lord
Bellenden’s,” said Evelyn, u yet she seemed no
common person, and not made for the churlishness
you shewed her.”
a My churlishness no doubt surprised you, and I
am afraid Miss Evelyn too.”
cc It did: and I will fairly own to you we thought
you capricious. 1 now believe I was wrong.”
u You were indeed,” said Tremaine : 66 and
though I pretend not to justify churlishness to a wo-
man, in any case, you shall judge whether I could
feel the friend of such a woman.”
He then related all that has been related already
of Mrs. Neville’s manoeuvres, and their detection,
and then asked if Evelyn himself could be at all at
his ease in her company.
“ I think 1 could,” said Evelyn.
u You are an absolute stoic with your philoso-
phy !”
VOL. II.
K
194
TREMAINE.
“ Not in the least. I am rather Epicurean ; for
if I could be easy, it would be merely because the
woman is not worth a thought.”
“ Yet she has power, influence, and, above all,
the advantage of being plagued with no principle,”
said Tremaine.
“ A. mere managing mamma, with all her riches,”
replied his friend. tfi If you mind such things in the
world, I begin not to be surprised that the world has
such an effect upon you. What I am surprised at in
a man of your experience, is the ease with which
you were taken in.”
66 I knew not her character,” said Tremaine, “and
I respected a mother anxious for her child.”
“ I believe,” said Evelyn, shaking hands with
him, and about to depart — “ I believe you have an
excellent heart.”
u Can you do this,” answered Tremaine, and he
looked up as if hesitating to proceed, “ when there
are other parts of this she-devil’s letter unexplained,
which yet contain an express accusation, that I have
used another young woman of birth and fashion,
and, as the world say, of merit, shamefully ill ?”
V Lady Gertrude Bellenden ?” said Evelyn.
“ The same.”
“ Why I there also observed something extraor-
dinary in your conduct; and l thought it the more
so, because she was not only beautiful, but fashion
itself.”
Tremaine coloured, but exclaimed, “ how little
do you, does any one, know me !”
TREMAINE. 195
“ My dearest friend,” said Evelyn, mildly, a do
you know yourself?”
u Yes, enough to be certain of one thing, that
beauty and fashion alone will never make a man
happy : add to it, a cold selfishness, ignorance,
and hardness of heart, and what would you think of
it ?”
66 The answer is not difficult,” said Evelyn.
“ Then you have Lady Gertrude before you,” ob-
served Tremaine.
“ Good Heavens ! — the designed friend of my
daughter !”
“It must be owned they are a little different,”
continued Tremaine — “ light and darkness are not
more opposite than the elements that compose them.”
“ Poor Lady Bellenden!” said Evelyn; “ but
are you sure this is not prejudice ?”
66 Judge for yourself,” answered Tremaine; and
he laid before Evelyn all he had been disposed to
feel for Lady Gertrude — the experiments he had
made of her mind and heart, and the result of those
experiments.
“ I cannot blame you,” observed Evelyn.
“ Then I am satisfied,” said Tremaine; and the
friends separated.
“ This Mr. Bevil is a very extraordinary person,”
pursued Evelyn to his daughter, when he had com-
municated these particulars to her on his return
home. “ I think he is made for good if he chuse,
and we certainly have done him good.”
196
TREMAINE.
iC There was then something between him and
Lady Gertrude,” said Georgina.
i( And does that move you ?” asked her father.
ee Only my curiosity,” replied Georgina : “ I cer-
tainly have been alive to it since I saw them together
at Bellenden House.”
u And what was your judgment ?”
cc That Lady Gertrude was not indifferent about
him.”
“ Young ladies I suppose understand these mat-
ters, but how a girl of twenty could have any interest
about a man of forty ”
“ My dear papa, he is but eight and thirty.”
“ To be sure,” said Evelyn, “ that makes a great
difference ; I had forgotten that.”
Georgina blushed. Her father kissed her, and
they separated for the night, each with their little
anxieties, mixed with some sweetness, in which,
with Georgina at least, the sweetness greatly pre-
dominated.
TREMAINE.
197
CHAP. XXI.
NAIVETE.
Oh ! fair Katherine, if you will love me soundly
* ( With your French heart, I will be glad to hear you
“ Confess it brokenly with your English tongue.”
SHAKSPEARE.
The result of the adventure of Somerville Wood
was for some time happy for Georgina, for she was
allowed to cultivate Melainie as much as she could
wish ; and often did she stroll with her, arm in arm,
in the avenue leading to the cottage, with all the
familiarity and confidence of an old friend.
It was an intercourse very sweet to her heart,
which expanded with a delight that was new to it.
It was equally so with Melainie, who, no more
than Georgina, had ever known a friend of her own
age.
“ It seems quite my country,” said she, talking
one day of England, u for I never knew France,
where I was bom, and all I ever loved best are
English ; you among them.”
u Dear Melainie,” said Georgina, 66 but have a
care not to love so entirely without experience — how
do you know I shall deserve it ?”
k 3
198
TREMAINE.
66 Do you not love me?” asked Melainie, gravely.
“ Oh, yes !”
6C How then can I be wrong ?” Besides Mr.
Tremaine — ”
(l What of him ?”
u He told Mrs. Rochford, before we saw you, that
if Heaven had found a friend for me, whom he would
wish me to love, and be like, it was you.”
u Did Mr. Tremaine say this?” asked Georgina.
u Yes, and I am sure he was very right, for I feel as
if I could like you better than any thing in the world.”
u Not in the world,” answered Georgina archly;
(( for you have undoubtedly as good, or better, and
older friends.”
u Yes!” said Melainie, and sighed.
46 Why that sigh ?”
u I often sigh,” replied the artless girl, 6i when I
think of some of them.”
u Is not that strange ?” observed her companion ;
u especially if they are so good.”
u Yes! indeed they are good! but they are far
away.”
“ Are you thinking of your second father?” asked
Georgina.
<e I am thinking of Colonel Osmond,” answered
Melainie ; “ but though he has been one to me, I do
not like to call him father.”
“ And why not ?” said Georgina with more arch-
ness still.
(( I would rather think of him as my brother,”
TREMAINE.
199
replied Miss de Montauban. i{ When I attended
him in his terrible wound, I always thought him so.
He was not at all like my father the Count, he was so
gay and lively even though sick: but when he got
well, his spirits were like those of a youth — even of
a French youth.”
ec Then he does not resemble his friend Mr. Tre-
maine ?” said Georgina with curiosity.
66 He is not so severe, nor so sweet,” returned
Melainie, not exactly appreciating her English ;
a but he is like him in his nobility.”
Georgina smiling at her language, could not help
asking whether he resembled him in person.
u Ah ! he is not so handsome, but much beauti-
fuller”
ec You love him !” said Georgina, smiling again.
(c Most dearly,” replied the honest girl.
a Could you pass your life with him ?” continued
Georgina, hazarding more than she had at first in-
tended.
66 Too glad ! but he is always at war.”
Georgina would not push the matter farther, but
thought that the fate of the high-spirited Osmond
promised to be as happy as it deserved to be. From
this she made a secret transition, which she could not
account for, to the subject of disparity of years ; and
this left her with an opinion that young as Melainie
was, she might be a happy, as well as what is called
a lucky girl, in the love and protection of such a man
as Osmond.
K i
200
TREMAINE.
The question was soon decided, for within a fort-
night of this conversation the Colonel actually arrived.
He had leave but for a month, and we may suppose
how he employed it. In effect, he became so entirely
to his young ward, the centre of all her interest, all
her admiration, that all her affection followed of
course ; and naive and ignorant of the world as she
was, she was scarcely surprised, when Mrs. Rochford
told her that he had come over on purpose to offer
her his hand.
This Episode does not require that the reader
should be farther detained with it, though it was of
consequence to Georgina, who lost her pretty friend,
almost as soon as she had found her. Imperious
duty drove Osmond back to the armies, without
having had time to do more than arrange prelimina-
ries. It was settled that Mrs. Rochford and Me-
lainie should take up their abode at Brussels, to be
more in his neighbourhood, and that he should seize
the very first respite he could obtain, to fulfil his
engagement. This was accordingly done, though it
occasioned much sorrow to Georgina at parting. To
Brussels Mrs. Rochford repaired with her charge,
and at Brussels the contemplated ceremony was only
delayed, by that which delayed enterprises of far
greater pith and moment, though, to the parties, not
of greater interest, the field of Waterloo.
TREMAINE.
201
CHAP. XXII.
ANOTHER CHARGE AGAINST MR. TREMAINE.
** Leaving the fear of Heaven on the left hand.'*
SHAKSPEARE.
Georgina was doomed yet to suffer considerable
uneasiness, in regard to many things that related to
the person who had now become the frequent object
of her thoughts. In particular, the surmises of her
faithful and sober-minded waiting-maid, on the score
of Tremaine’s principles in religion ; though not
of much authority, yet added to her own observation
of his tenets in general, left her far from at rest.
Winter indeed had made a considerable mistake,
of which she had stood convicted in the affair of the
Somerville Wood ladies, and she was punished for
it by a whole week’s silence at her mistress’s un-
dressing.
She had therefore for some time returned to the
praises of Tremaine. Nevertheless, as she was a
godly woman, in her way, and moreover considered
Monsieur Dupuis as very first-rate authority, she
could not help, if only for the good of his soul, and
as an advance towards reform, relating to her mis-
k 5
202
TREMAINE.
tress her suspicions, that Mr. Tremaine, in regard
both to practice and doctrine, was not quite right.
After praising him therefore one day to the skies,
for never inspecting Mrs. Watson’s accounts, but
trusting all to her honesty, u there is but one thing,”
she added, u against him ; and pity it is in so nice a
gentleman, so good to all, (pervided they don’t teize
him), Do you know, Ma’am, he lets Mrs. Watson
give away as much as she pleases, — she must have a
nice place on it. But there is one thing which she
and I both disapprove ; and I said to her one day,
I was sure you w ould do so too if you knew it.”
u What can you possibly mean ?” said Georgina
with displeasure. u I hope you don’t make me the
subject ”
6( Oh dear ! no, Ma’am : I am sure I never took the
liberty of your name but that once, and then I am
sure it slipped out I don’t know how; I was so cer-
tain you would not like what Mrs. Watson said,
66 I must beg, Winter,” replied Georgina with
more gravity than she had ever yet shewn, “ that you
will not make either me or Mr. Tremaine the subject
of your conversation with any body, and least of all
with Watson.”
“ La ! Ma’am,” answered the waiting-woman,
u I wonder w hy ; for I pertest, both Watson and me
think it the most naturalest thing in the world, you
are both of you so good, only for that one thing.”
u Well,” said Georgina, a as you have talked
TREMAINE. 203
about it ; though I must beg you to mind what I
have said, and never ”
“Oh dear! no, Ma’am, never, you may rely upon
it,” interrupted Winter.
“ Well then,” continued Georgina good humour-
edly; “ what is your one thing?”
“ He never goes to church, Ma’am,” answered
Winter.
“ I am sorry for it,” said Miss Evelyn thought-
fully.
“ That’s what I said you would be,” answered the
waiting-maid, “and indeed, Ma’am, I am afraid from
what Mr. Doopooy says, he has no notion of religion
at all.”
“ Monsieur Dupuis,” observed her mistress, “ is
no doubt a very excellent judge.”
“ Oh! as for that, Ma’am,” rejoined Winter, who
feared she might have gone too far, “ I am sure I
think he’s no judge at all, for Mrs. Watson, who you
know is a little bit of a methodist, shewed me the
most beautiful Bible I ever saw, which her master
made her a present of the other day, and cost eight
guineas.”
That does not look as if he did not care for it,
thought Miss Evelyn, musing.
The waiting-maid went on : “I am sure I don’t
believe a word that a Frenchman says ; only to be
sure he never does go to church. Now if you and
my master were to just talk to him a little ”
“ Leave me, Winter,” said Miss Evelyn, “ I can
do all the rest of my undressing myself.”
204 ;
TREMAINE.
The conversation in fact was going too far, and,
without knowing how to get out of it, the sense of
propriety of this excellent young creature made
her feel, without any reflection, the necessity for
its termination. When alone, however, she be-
gan to think seriously of her waiting-maid’s last
hint.
There cannot be a want of real religion, said she
to herself, in a mind of such principle ; it must be
merely some eccentricity, some mistake ; and he is
improved in every thing of late. She then resolved
to take the first opportunity of the two friends
being together, to turn the conversation on the
subject.
It was not long wanting ; and strange to say, it
grew out of a discussion on the Opera.
TREMAINE.
205
CHAP. XXIII.
A DISSERTATION ON THE OPERA.
u 'Tis good ; though music oft hath such a charm,
“ To make bad good, and good provoke to harm.”
“ I have seen the day
“ That I have worn a visor, and could tell
“ A whispering tale in a fair lady’s ear,
“ Such as would please.”
SHAKSPEARE.
“ For once or twice, or perhaps half a dozen times
in a season,” said Evelyn, 66 I should not much
mind, perhaps I should like it ; but to have a box
for the whole winter, and never miss a night, I own
it is too much for the virtue of any man, or any wo-
man.”
u And yet you own you once were a votary,” re-
marked Tremaine.
“ I confess it,” said Evelyn, c( a votary to all that
could sooth, dazzle, or exhilirate, in sound or sight —
to all the attractions of soul-subduing elegance ; in
short, to all that art or luxury could devise, by which,
after laying reason asleep, it could enchant, over-
power, and I fear corrupt the mind.”
206
TREMAINE.
44 Corrupt the mind!” exclaimed Tremaine. 44 Is
it possible the Opera can so offend ?”
44 Not if moderately taken. It is then only a very
splendid fete, exciting much emotion ’tis true, but
not so much as may not be soon allayed ; but if re-
peated, so as to become a nightly want, all other
(particularly the more rational) gratifications fall
down before, and are absorbed by it ; and whatever
becomes of the virtue of your philosophers of fash-
ion, I should tremble for mine.”
44 I am to understand then,” said Tremaine, laugh-
ing, 44 that men of fashion have more power to resist
temptation than you country clergymen ?”
44 Rather, that you are like the devils,” answered
Evelyn, 44 and are condemned to live in flames, which
do not torture you the less, because you are not an-
nihilated.”
44 Who would have thought you were so easily un-
dermined ?” asked Tremaine.
44 I am so,” replied Evelyn ; 44 and the misery is,
that the Opera devotee, whether male or female, goes
on, night after night, undermining, and relaxing all
the springs of virtuous or religious energy, without
being conscious of the danger ; and a character may
be unsettled, or a soul lost, before any thing is known,
but the effect.”
44 Perhaps that is the reason,” rejoined Tremaine,
44 why the bishops never favour us with their pre-
sence.”
44 And a very good one if it is,” answered Evelyn.
TREMAINE.
207
iC You will observe, however, I speak only of your
thorough-paced Opera goer.”
cc What an epithet for a lover of the most elegant,
the most fascinating, of all amusements !” said Tre-
maine.
Ci It is that fascination, carried as it is to excess ,
with which I quarrel,” replied his friend. (C No,
Sir, no : the Opera, to the senses, when daily taken,
is like opium to the body — we are drunk without
knowing it : nothing else will please, and yet it de-
stroys. The stage is so set off' with magnificence,
that nothing simple afterwards can interest. Music
seems to revel, as if Timotheus, or Apollo himself,
directed. It 66 takes the prison’d soul, and laps it in
Elysium.” How can I, when nightly full of it, set
about my devotions, or mere ordinary business, with
common content ?”
cc I wonder you don’t mention the dancing,” said
Tremaine.
The worst of all,” answered the moralist, et for
here the utmost effort of art and ingenuity, under
the most graceful, and therefore unsuspicious appear-
ance, seems to be lavished on the poor tempted
senses. Voluptuousness applies to them in every
form, every motion, every sound ; and it depends
merely upon the scope of the fable, or design of the
ballet, what we may be for the rest of the night, and
perhaps the next day.”
“Are our principles then so weak?” asked Tre-
maine.
208
TREMAINE.
u Our principles, if we have any,” said Evelyn,
“ seem to be left with our money at the door ; for
the very air of the enchanted palace is infectious.”
u The company at least are much obliged to
you,” retorted Tremaine.
“ The company is as bad as any part of it,” an-
swered Evelyn.
“ This is most extraordinary.”
“ Not in the least. Pleasure, in its most gilded
shape ; pleasure without reflection, is the object of
all. Dress, manners, conversation, ideas, are all
shaped and directed according to its dictates. The
natural character of every one seems to partake of
what is going forward upon the stage. Elegant vo-
luptuousness takes possession ; voluptuousness not
thought dangerous, because so elegant. Hence
affectation, flirtation, and assignation ; hence the
acting, both off and on the stage ; hence the ruin of
many a young mind, put out of humour with its
every day duties. In short, in the boxes, as well as
on the boards, Circe, Comus, and Calypso, seem to
keep their court, and the enchanter actually for a
time makes good the promise of his cup, (more pre-
cious than Nepenthe) that it will
“ Bathe the drooping senses in delight,
“ Beyond the bliss of dreams !” —
“ This is very eloquent,” said Tremaine, turning
to Georgina, who listened the whole time with
marked attention ; “ but I perceive you only wish to
set this fair lady upon her guard, or perhaps, like a
TREMAINE. 209
good rhetorician, merely try an experiment as to your
powers, for or against a question.”
u I assure you,” said Evelyn, gravely, “ I only
speak my thoughts, which arose long ago out of
severe examinations which I was forced to hold with
myself on the subject.”
“ You found yourself undermined,” observed
Tremaine.
<c Not so much undermined, as unfitted, by
taking too much of it, for the more sober and impor-
tant pursuits of life. You will observe I still confine
myself to the case of its becoming an habitual want ,
as it did with me, and as it does with most. In
that case , it is like gaming, which swallows up both
passion and principle ; and the gardens of Armida
were not more enervating to the heroism of Rinaldo,
than the Opera-house to the virtue and devotion of
a Christian.” (a)
(a) We think that the Doctor had lived so long; in the country as
really to have grown a little rusty ; for his feelings and his fears are
those of a raw young man, educated by his grandmother, and seeing
an opera during his first winter in London . — Note by the Editor.
210
TREMAZNE.
CHAP. XXIV.
A DISSERTATION ON PRAYER AND GOING TO CHURCH.
' \
“ How he solicits heaven, himself best knows.”
“ For here we have no temple but the woods.”
SHAKSPEARE.
“ Did ever any man alive, before this,” exclaimed
Tremaine, “attempt to mix virtue and Christian de-
votion with the Opera?”
Georgina laughed, and he continued : “ Belinda
smiled, and all the world was gay;” hence I sup-
pose a lady never wants an excuse for a smile;
otherwise I would ask my fair friend, what prompted
her mirth ?”
“ To see how we may sometimes be misappre-
hended,” answered she; “for it was because virtue
and devotion could never mix with an opera, that
my father mentioned them.”
“ The lady understands me, as she always does,”
pursued Evelyn, half embracing her as he said it.
Tremaine envied that half embrace.
TREMAINE.
211
u Seriously, can you wonder,” added Evelyn,
ce that not merely a clergyman, but any man not ab-
solutely debauched by the world, or indifferent to
what is to come, should lament the sort of cor-
ruption, that “ mining all within,” under the name
of pleasure, “ infects unseen? ”
“ I deny both the corruption and the infection,”
answered Tremaine, “and never found the elegance
you complain of do other than refine my taste, or
soften my heart to all about me.”
“To the singers and dancers I have no doubt it
did,” replied Evelyn, “ as it did mine when a young
man, (and what young man is not liable to be
softened by an opera-girl ?) but will you tell me if it
ever excited one virtuous emotion, one that was not
even in some degree of a different complexion ? If it
were only from the circumstance of the best opera
being always on the Saturday, the eve of the sab-
bath, I should quarrel with it.”
“ That is a sophistry I did not expect from so
large a mind,” said Tremaine ; “ for with so much
true religion, as such a teacher of it must have, what
difference, in point of effect, can mere conventional
forms produce ?”
“ Do you call then the sabbath a form ?” said
Evelyn seriously.
“ To a man sincerely and deeply imbued with the
reality, as you are, I do,” answered Tremaine.
“ I did not know that had been your creed,” said
Evelyn, gravely; and Georgina, perceiving her wished
212
TREMAINE.
for opportunity was already come, listened with all
the eagerness of fixed attention.
“ My good friend,” observed Tremaine, “creeds
are at all times in my opinion but bad things, since
they only fetter the liberal mind, and produce mis-
understandings by introducing points of controversy,
which in time become points of honour, and are un-
ceasing causes of strife. I say my prayers in the
fields ; you in a church ; yet we both pray to the
same deity. I am most fervent in one week on a
Saturday, in another on a Friday, you always on a
Sunday. Which is likely to be most spontaneous,
and therefore most serious in devotion, you whose
call is periodical, and the effect of mere institution ;
or /, who listen alone to the immediate impulse of
the heart ?”
There is no irreligion in this, thought Georgina.
“ Go on,” cried Evelyn, “ I like this very well.”
cc I have done,” said Tremaine: “I only meant
to show that true devotion, not being confined to
time or place, it is fallacious to reason against the
indulgence of pleasure at one moment, because the
next is set apart by a rule, (and nothing else,) to
what is called a religious duty.”
6i That is,” replied Evelyn, “ you think there
ought to be no sabbath ; which, if we would be so
obliging as to annihilate, there would be no harm in
indulging on its eve in an amusement, which, I say,
is wholly incompatible with its duties.”
“ Granting for a moment your consequence ex ab-
TREMAINE.
213
surdo, you have not proved this incompatibility,”
said Tremaine.
“ I speak only from experience, the best of
guides,” answered Evelyn, “ for at five and twenty I
once passed every night of a whole winter at the
Opera, and of course never missed on a Saturday ;
but the effect upon my feelings, and my sacred duties
the next day, I have hardly yet ceased to lament as
well as to remember.”
“You were even then I believe in orders?” ob-
served Tremaine.
tc So much the stronger for the argument,” replied
Evelyn ; “ for if I, with all the seriousness of my
functions before me, could not sometimes, even in
the pulpit, divest myself of the dazzling, the dissi-
pated ideas, which had filled me but a few hours be-
fore, how will those people act, particularly if young,
with their passions and imaginations all awake, who
have no peculiar sacredness thrown around them from
profession, but conceive they are left pretty much to
themselves on the point ?”
“ You either strain this matter too far,” answered
Tremaine, “ or other people have not your vivid
imagination. At any rate you recovered yourself.”
" I did, but not at the Opera.”
“ Where then ?”
“ In seclusion, in lonely self-examination ; for I
obeyed the precept, “ commune with thine own heart
in thy chamber.” I went afterwards to the Opera,
214
TREMAINE.
but not frequently ; never on a Saturday night, and
was all the better for my change of habits.”
The gravity of Evelyn’s recollections here made
him stop, and the conversation paused; nor did
Tremaine think proper to continue the discussion of
that part of the subject.
Upon forms and ceremonies, however, no man was
so strong ; and the prejudice he felt against what he
called prejudice was so great, that at the hazard of
hurting, and even displeasing not only his friend, but
his friend’s daughter, he reverted to what had fallen
from Evelyn in respect to the sabbatical institution.
“ Granting you a sabbath,” said he, u I own you
have defended this matter well ; and I believe we
must bring in a bill to transpose the opera from Sa-
turday to Friday.”
u From your principle, just elicited, “answered
Evelyn, “ it would be rather more desirable I think
to have a bill for the annihilation of Sunday itself;
and I recollect your favourite philosopher, Voltaire,
in his Country Priest’s Catechism, while he conde-
scends to allow the people to say a few prayers on
this day, computes that one hundred and fifty mil-
lions of livres a-year would be saved to the state,
by only depriving it of its character of a day of
rest.” (a)
“You do him injustice,” said Tremaine : “he
only would make the labourers work as usual, when
(a) Diction. Philosoph.
TREMAINE. 215
church was over, instead of going to the ale-house,
to make themselves beasts.”
44 He has no right to assume they will do so,” an-
swered Evelyn, 44 in fact only a small part actually
do so, and these few would be still less in number if
their masters went to church.”
44 You would then make us go to church, merely
that our servants may not get drunk ?” observed Tre-
maine.
“How much do you assume in that merely re-
plied Evelyn. 44 No ! I would have you go, that you
may not get drunk yourselves ; drunk with irreli-
gion, drunk with philosophy, which always begins
by a lazy habit of neglecting the forms of our wor-
ship.”
44 Forms, again !” cried Tremaine.
44 My dear friend,” said Evelyn, with emphasis as
well as kindness, 44 this is a most important, yet
surely a very clear subject. I only hope, and I do
it earnestly, that our difference is really about forms,
and that you have not quitted the substance.”
The good Doctor here grasped his hand with
friendly fervour, and surveyed him with a penetra-
ting eye.
44 1 cannot possibly have an objection to people
saying their prayers,” answered Tremaine.
44 That’s something,” said his friend : 44 but why
not then pray with them ? — why not join in kindling
one another’s devotion ?”
44 You have hit a great part of my objection,” re-
plied the speculatist. 44 It is with that kindling I
216
TREMAINE.
quarrel ; for devotion, to be pure, ought to be spon-
taneous : if it depends upon others to be kindled, it
is factitious. Hence I never could bear any stated
hour of prayer, any ceremonial, any thing that I call
mechanical, in a matter which must always be be-
yond the reach of mechanism. Nor can I be per-
suaded that he, who, upon surveying the glory of the
heavens, or feeling his heart swell with any great hap-
piness, falls down in the fields, or in his chamber, to
pour out his mind in thanksgiving, and adoration, is
not more really devout, than he who prays because he
is just awake, or just going to sleep, or because the
clock strikes ten.
“ The real fervour of religion must surely be lighted
up by feelings far removed from all cold dependences
upon time, or even place. Some places, indeed, may
be found that inspire us sooner than others, with ideas
of the more immediate presence of the Deity : —
“ Presentiorem conspicimus deum
“ Per invias rupes, fera per juga,
“ Clivosque praeruptos sonantes
t( Inter aquas, nemorumque noctem,
“ Quam si repostus trabe sub citrea,
“ Fulgeret auro, et Phidiaco manu.” (a)
(a) The classical reader (if I have one) will recollect the most
beautiful of all modern odes, by Gray, to the Religio Loci of the
Grande Chartreuse, whence this fragment is taken. Tremaine thus
freely translated it afterwards, for Georgina.
“ We seem to behold the Deity more immediately present amid
“ pathless rocks, and savage fells, amid broken crags, in sounding
“ waterfalls, and the darkness of the forest, than in a temple re-
“ splendent with cedar and gold, the work of Phidias.”
TREMAINE.
217
u Beautiful!” exclaimed Evelyn, letting his love
of poetry for a moment suspend his argument : u thou
almost persuadest me to turn savage, and fly the
tame scene” where bell hath knolled to church.”
u I fear, however,” continued Tremaine, u this
feeling would not avail the generality, or give place
any great advantage over time in this respect ; for
not only must we feel a portion of the Divine affla-
tus with which he who wrote these charming lines
was inspired when he conceived them, but even with
a warm imagination, the tame scene, as you justly
call it, (I mean our places of worship,) seldom or
never can influence. A church, for example, pos-
sesses in this matter no advantage whatever over a
private room.”
<c Where is your enthusiasm for times past, your
love of ancient lore ?” said Evelyn. u You have
surely forgotten the most venerable, the most soul-
inspiring of all things.”
u I do not comprehend,” cried Tremaine.
u My father means a Gothic cathedral,” observed
Georgina.
(i I do,” said Evelyn ; <( and defy any man who
has fervour of any kind in his soul, to tread the
pavement of an ancient abbey, amid arches, and
aisles, and tombs, and not feel awed. Remember
how even a man of wit and pleasure, who sparkled
brightest among the sparklers of his time, was able to
describe this.” And then he burst out with his usual
warmth :
VOL. II. L
218
TREMAINE.
“ How reverend is the face of this tall pile,
“ Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,
“ To bear aloft its arch’d and pond’rous roof,
i( By its own weight made stedfast and immoveable,
“ Looking tranquillity !>’ (a)
“ I allow all this,” said Tremaine, “ and have
often felt both the sentiment and the beauty of these
lines : nay such is the power of sympathy, that I have
generally, on entering such a venerable pile, caught
a portion of the flame of those (particularly in
Catholic countries), whom I have seen sincerely at
their devotions. But alas! ” and he stopt.
Oh ! what can be coming ! thought Georgina.
“ Proceed,” said Evelyn.
“ 1 have checked myself,” continued Tremaine,
u with the thought, that hands like my own, and
mortals like myself, had framed and fashioned these
witcheries, and therefore that all was false.”
u False !” cried Evelyn; “ what then is true?”
Georgina sighed, but the sigh was lost in what fol-
lowed.
“ I will tell you,” said Tremaine; — “though I
may reject, or rather not necessarily fix upon a
church, as the fittest place for devotion, I reject not
devotion itself.”
cc Good !” observed Evelyn.
“ In the wild scenes of nature,” continued Tre-
maine, “ such as the Chartreuse, and even in a retired
garden, or the depth of a forest, where I have some-
(aj Congreve.
TREMAINE.
219
times wandered in lonely musing, I have (in my
younger days,) vented my soul in prayer and thanks-
giving.”
Georgina’s eyes absolutely glistened when she heard
this, and Evelyn taking his hand, exclaimed with pious
affection, u You are not far from the kingdom of God ;
why then do you refuse coming to his house ?”
“Why indeed!” said Georgina: “[ am fully
persuaded this is only one of Mr. Tremaine’s odd
theories; for if he feels so substantially right ”
She paused, and a sort of sigh escaped from Tre-
maine ; for he recollected that many years indeed had
elapsed since the happy times he was describing,
when his youthful bosom ran over with religion, as a
sentiment, without being clogged with any of those
miserable embarrassments which the pride of reason
had since interposed.
ct I fear,” said he, “ you give me more credit than
I deserve (if it be a credit to be grateful ;) but if you
ask me why I think of religious forms and ceremonies
as I do, it is simply because the fullness of devotion,
where sincere, must be always such as to burst
beyond all restraint, and reduce forms to mere acting
and mummery. I see a set of good folks in their
best clothes, all sauntering on a given day to a given
place, with an assumed air of seriousness, though the
instant before they may have been occupied in mer-
riment or business. Is there any reason for this uni-
versal consentaneous movement ? Yes ! a summons
from a particular bell, placed in a steeple ! Well !
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220
TREMAINE.
the congregation arrive at the door : on one side the
threshold all is still ordinary conversation ; on the
other, the holy fit comes on in a moment. Is it, can
it, I say, be true, that this sudden change is real ?
and if not, what is it ?”
u My good neighbour,” replied Evelyn, “ we are
taking up this matter too partially, and your too
eager feelings blind you. If those to whom you
allude have left subjects of merriment or business,
immediately before they go to their prayers, so much
the worse for them. But this was not the intention
of the sabbath ; and it would have been but good
for their spiritual interest as well as comfort, if they
had stolen a little time from their worldly concerns,
in order the better to produce that frame of mind so
necessary for the serious office.”
i( Produce that frame of mind !” exclaimed Tre-
maine.
“ Aye, Sir ! ’twas my word. For do we not know
enough of the nature of emotion, or rather of asso-
ciation, to feel that almost any thing can be excited
by laying the proper train ?”
“If devotion be so excited,” replied Tremaine,
“ it becomes artificial, and therefore hypocritical.”
“ I deny both the one and the other,” said the
Doctor. “ Consider this matter,” continued he.
“ You say yourself, that in the recess of a forest,
lonely and musing, you have fallen down and wor-
shipped. Explain to me, when you entered your
retreat, were you in this frame of mind ? — did you
TREMAINE.
221
leave your house under any peculiarly devout im-
pression ?”
44 Perhaps not. I probably only set out on a
common walk, but was filled by degrees with the
contemplation of nature.”
44 Your devotion then possibly came on, in con-
sequence of an almost imperceptible pursuit of ideas,
each following, and each enlarging the other?”
(( Very possibly.”
44 Tell me then, do you think your piety was kin-
dled by any immediate call from above; any super-
natural visitation ; or only the consequence of a
serious frame of mind, generated in a natural man-
ner ?”
44 Certainly the latter,” said Tremaine.
44 Answer again before we finish,” pursued Eve-
lyn. 44 Were you not soothed and happier for your
devotion ? and could a wish at any time command
the same moments, would you not indulge that
wish ?”
44 1 would give the world sometimes to renew them.”
44 The devotion then, that springs from a wish to
be devout, is not mechanical?”
44 I should suppose not.”
44 ’Tis quite enough,” said the Socratic Doctor ;
44 for the poor people you have sneered at, might be,
if they pleased, precisely in your situation in the
forest.”
44 That I defy you to make out,” observed Tre-
maine.
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222
TREMAINE.
u And yet,” rejoined Evelyn, 66 nothing is more
simple ; for I hold piety to be a natural attribute of
man, and seated in his heart; although, together with
every thing else belonging to that poor heart, it may
be smothered, or bruised, or worn out, or covered
with callosities, according to the character, fortune,
or way of life, of the wayward possessor.”
66 Your inference?” said Tremaine.
“ Why, that piety being in the heart, like a seed
in the ground, it may always swell, and sprout, and
fructify, according to the willingness, and pains
bestowed on its cultivation.”
“ Still I don’t see the conclusion,” pursued Tre-
maine.
u Merely that if common attention be paid to it,
not in fits and starts, but at regular and stated times,
— as you would weed and water your seed, without
trusting it to chance, — it will interweave itself into
your habit, will always be ready, and will even court
your call.”
66 And then ?”
cs Why then it will always accompany you to
church, if you only please to let it do so,” said the
Doctor.
Tremaine, though shaken, looked still unconvinced.
u You will oblige me,” said he, 66 by explaining
the potent incantation, by which you would make this
call : and at any rate, prove to me that it is not
artificial.”
(( The process is however very inartificial, and in
TREMAINE.
223
every one’s power,” returned Evelyn. cc It is only a
little to help, I had almost said not to disturb, the
natural course of things.”
ts As how ?” asked Tremaine.
u Not to go to the Opera on a Saturday night,”
answered the Doctor.
ee It is amazing,” continued he, perceiving that
Tremaine paused upon his words, " to hear men,
(sincere, and weli-meaning men too,) complain of
their want of zeal, of their indifference, and worldly
mindedness : and yet to observe the pains they take
to shut up every avenue by which devotion, if only
left to itself, would pass into the heart. We prepare
for divine service, as you say, by indulging in merri-
ment, or business, or politics, to the very moment
when the soul is to be poured forth in prayer. Those
who have been at a great public entertainment the
preceding night, canvass the actors, male and
female, to the very church-door ; and I recollect a
gay lady, who yet was constant with her family at
morning church, open her pew to an acquaintance?
asking whether he would not come into her box !
The merchant in the country goes to the post-office
on the sabbath morning, discusses the price of stocks,
and with his letters full in his head, perhaps in his
very hand, walks to his church, yet wonders he is not
devout. The politician in Town does the same by
all the Sunday papers. Yet if we do the contrary of
all this, by only passing a little preparatory time in
meditation, in looking over the sacred book, or the
L 4;
TREMAINE.
224
collect of the day, or in private prayer, though
nothing may be more sincere than the consequent
devotion it kindles, it is called artificial. Now where
is the difference in this respect, between a zeal when
in the church, which is the natural and sincere off-
spring of this concatenation, and yours in the forest*
which was the production of mere preparatory ideas ?”
44 The difference,” said Tremaine, 44 is, that the
one comes spontaneously, the other is factitious.”
44 I care not how it comes,” answered Evelyn,
44 provided it is real when it does come : and you
allow yourself, if it could come at a wish, it would
not be mechanical. Now when I open my bible, or
any devout book, or merely a serious moral essay,
all which I have the will to do if I please, I wish for
the consequences, and your associations in the wood
immediately commence. The proper frame of mind,
if it did not exist before, is thus generated by degrees ;
it is no more artificial than any other frame of mind
that flows from natural meditation ; and hence it is
in my power to wish, and be gratified in my wish.
Upon this very subject, you will recollect what the
wisest of all mortals, at least of all modern mortals,
(for so I hold Lord Bacon to be) has observed in his
beautiful prayer : — 44 I have sought thee in courts,
fields, and gardens, but I have found thee in thy
temples.” This has been well supposed to mean
devotional exercise, with a view to cultivate and im-
prove our piety, as we would cultivate and improve
any thing else.”
TREMAINE.
225
u How can piety, which you suppose innate ,” said
Tremaine, “ require this cultivation ? How therefore
be compared to any thing else ?”
u Why not as well your taste, or any other quality
seated in the soul, that is not a mere art or science ?
Hence therefore my unceasing wonder, that in an age
in which there is at least much talk about religion,
in which there is much real attention to the education
of the poor, and in which good books multiply in
every library, there should be a total neglect of the
good old custom of our ancestors, who at night and
morning joined in family prayer.”
“ I suppose,” said Tremaine, “ it is because you
cannot prove the peculiar sacredness of any one
particular hour, in which the holy temper is to be
generated ; why the morning or the evening should
be expected to call for prayers which the noon is to
be without. A really grateful and liberal heart
cannot be so fettered, and the Almighty might almost
seem mocked, with such mere and palpable form.”
“ And yet nature, in prompting our duty at morn
and eve, speaks to us more plainly than you seem to
be aware of,” said Evelyn.
u I know what you would say,” replied Tremaine,
u and you will tell me of Providence. This on the
approach of night I can almost conceive, or at least
can understand why it is believed. The evening
comes on, we stand in need of sleep, which closing
up our senses, all vigilance is suppressed, and we
think we require peculiar protection. Who then
l 5
226
TREMAINE.
shall keep watch for us, is a question which comes
sensibly home to our thoughts at our lying down.
Then comes cowardice, heightened by fancy, and
we are glad to rely on a being who will take the
post of our senses, and do that for us which we can-
not do for ourselves. This is at least a comfortable
supposition, and I am not surprised at nightly prayer ;
but what the same prayer has to do with our uprising,
I own it baffles me to make out.”
u As if he who rules the night does not also rule
the day,” said Evelyn : u or as if we could take care
of ourselves either by night or by day without him
who watches every where, is every where, sees all
things, and governs all things.”
u But exclusive of this, is there nothing, after the
interesting description you have given of our wants
and our fears, for which we ought to thank him who
has been our protector against both ? Is there
nothing new in which we are about to embark, and
which claims equal protection, though perhaps of
another kind? In sleep we cannot (at least not
easily) sin ; but commencing a new r day, we proceed
afresh into the field of the passions, and the province of
action. Hence not merely physical, but moral dan-
gers are to be encountered ; and if in the prayers set
apart for the morning, we only read the words
tc vouchsafe to keep us this day without sin,” or
u defend us in the same by thy mighty power,” we
should find abundant reason for our morning devo-
tions. In a word, if you admit of prayer or thanks-
TREMAINE.
227
giving at all, I know nothing either more rational or
more natural, than our ritual upon this point.”
cc Have I convinced you ?” continued Evelyn,
observing Tremaine pondering these words, u or is
there still a doubt to be cleared ?”
ce I own,” answered the speculatist, u you have
said much for your system as to morning and evening
prayer ; but little to persuade me that a church is
better than a field ; that one hour is more sacred
than another on a Sunday, or Sunday itself than any
other day of the week ; still less that all mankind
can catch the same glow of devotion at the same
moment. Excuse me if I have sometimes thought
that this has been the mere effect of a priestcraft,
which formerly (I may say it without affronting you)
rode hard upon our ignorance, and which perhaps is
not yet quite dead. This among other things disin-
clined me to the church, for which you know I was
once designed.”
u I hope the other things were more powerful than
this,” said Evelyn ; u for if it was only from conveni-
ence . , the expediency of all men setting apart the
same day, and almost the same hour, for their devo-
tions, instead of leaving every man to his own ca-
price, is too manifest to talk of. Without general rules
as to time, the common business of life cannot go on ;
neither can this, the business of eternity.”
(( You only confirm me, by the term you use,”
said Tremaine; 66 for can such a feeling as devotion
be a matter of caprice ?”
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TREMAINE.
“ Not perhaps caprice,” answered Evelyn, “but it
might soon come to be nothing at all. For left to
his own impulses, never was there so uncertain, so
dependent a being as man ! Your picture of a devout
and grateful heart, I like full well. But if we were
all left, as we listed, to fall down in the fields or
in our chambers, I am afraid few knees would bend.
We should first postpone, then neglect, then be in-
different, and at last wicked; for, having offended God,
by defrauding him of his worship, our consciences
would perpetually prick us : this would cause unea-
siness ; and we hate uneasiness : and rather than this,
we should make the attempt to take refuge in infide-
lity, and soon come to have no religion at all.”
“My difference with you,” answered Tremaine,
“ is, that you leave us with no will in this matter, no
independence, but all must pray at once, and finish at
once, like the troops of a certain German Landgrave,
at the word of command ; and like them, if one be a
little more devout than another, and so pray a minute
or two longer, he is immediately caned for it.”
The Doctor smiled.
“ I will allow, if you please,” pursued Tremaine,
“ that a church is not a bad thing with a view to
enforce the devotion of the mob ; but you will not
condescend to rest an abstract subject upon a mere
particular argument. I of course speak only of the
well-educated, the contemplative, the philosophic.
— A bishop, according to you, is even in his piety a
mere machine !”
TREMAINE*
229
cc According to what you think I call a machine,
he is so.”
cs Will you explain this matter ?”
“ I have already, in all that I have said upon our
power, if we please, to command, or at least encou-
rage, the proper frame of mind ; and this, whether
in a bishop, or a private man. If this be done, it is
no longer difficult to conceive a whole neighbour-
hood, meeting all at one time, and in one mood,
(and that mood a devout one,) to do in effect, what
most wish, and all pretend. You may call this me-
chanical if you will; but so mechanically are we
composed, that example must always do much, and
mutual example very much.”
“ Example !” cried Tremaine ; u what can be its
force with a reasoning mind ?”
“ The force of sympathy,” answered Evelyn,
“ which, in a matter of feeling as well as reason,
and such I all along hold religion to be,) will always
overpower every thing that reason, without feeling,
may coldly attempt. Have we never heard of the
beautiful line,
“ And those that came to laugh, remain’d to pray ?”
Get people then once to church, and give me but a
few in a really devout mood, and I will answer for
most of the rest.”
“ Oh ! no doubt,” replied Tremaine, “and be
sure in your sympathies you forget not the influence
of the bells, the music of England ! I should be glad
230
TREMAINE.
to follow your ingenuity in tracing the exact pro-
gress of kindling piety, as the tolling changes from
almost merriment to gravity, and from gravity to de-
votion. There is first a deep chime, then a deep toll-
ing, lastly a little minute-bell, while the vicar is put-
ting on his surplice : but this mummery rather moves
the spleen than raises devotion.”
u But, with all due respect for your povrers of
sarcasm,” rejoined Evelyn, u I see nothing to quar-
rel with in our bells. If only as signals for a com-
munity to assemble for the performance of a common
duty, they are of use.
“ Meeting you, however, on your own terms, I
would say the associations which their sounds carry
along with them, do, in effect, produce much of that
influence which you endeavour to ridicule : and I
defy any plain good man, who has religion in his
heart, or even only in his imagination, to hear this
invitation, without feeling a sort of magical sympa-
thy, which will instantly render him serious, if not
pious.”
6i I should be dissatisfied with such a sympathy.”
“ Why?”
“ Because it cannot, being artificial, lead to ge-
nuine results,” said Tremaine.
£C And yet you have often seen it do so, and felt it
yourself,” replied Evelyn.
u Never !” replied his friend. u Yes ! perhaps
when 1 was a boy, without experience, and from be-
ing new to every thing, capable of appreciating no-
thing.”
TREMAINE.
231
tc Rather, I should say,” replied Evelyn, “ capable
of appreciating every thing, from not having been so-
phisticated by any thing. But 1 meant not this,”
continued he, “ when I said you had often felt it :
for deeply have you felt it, in other sounds as well as
those of a bell.”
“ In what ?” asked Tremaine with curiosity.
“A bugle,” answered Evelyn.
“ A bugle !”
“ Yes ! for give me leave to ask, if in the cam-
paigns you made, in search of that experience which
makes you so dissatisfied with every thing you do
experience, you did not feel a glow, an eagerness of
animation, whenever the bugle sounded, particularly
if an enemy was near ?”
“ I did,” said Tremaine.
“ And why ? Because of its concomitant ideas.
You thought of the field in motion,” continued
Evelyn, 66 of battle joined, or about to join ; of the
u plumed troop,” and every thing that you soldiers
say can make ambition virtue ! In short, your ima-
gination conjured up
“ The royal banner, and all quality,
“ Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war !”
Ci You have hit the matter exactly,” said Tre-
maine.
“Probably too,” continued Evelyn, “the whole
army partook of this generous ardour ?”
“ Nothing more likely.”
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TREMAINE.
cc Then pray what is this but association, the ma-
gical sympathy I talked of? And if all this arose,
simply upon hearing one sort of sound, why may
not I, or any other serious man (soldiers too, in our
way), feel equally kindled at another?”
Tremaine was again silent ; but it was no longer
the silence of embarrassment, or of a man endeavour-
ing to rally in an argument for victory. He felt con-
vinced, and only hesitated as to the moment and the
manner of shewing it. In the pause that ensued, he
took several turns across the room, and at every turn
eyed both his friends with softness and consciousness
at the same time. Both were observing him ; and
in Georgina in particular he was struck with a look
of interest he had not hitherto seen. It seemed as
if her heart was enquiring of his, whether it were
possible he could hold out against not merely the
piety, but the force of reasoning of her father.
The thought determined, not indeed his reason,
that had been fairly convinced, but his conduct ; and
taking a hand of each of his companions, C( My dear
friends,” said he, 6( it is in vain to push this any fur-
ther. I own I have long argued for argument’s
sake : I am conquered, and am happy to be so.”
He said this with the air noble that belonged to
him, and that air, together with what it sprung from,
went deep into the heart of Georgina,
He has religion in his soul, said she, as she left
the room, and retired to her own. There she walked
in silent musing for some time, revolving all she had
TREMAINE.
23 3
beard, and the struggle, and the yielding she had
witnessed. Tired at length, but not of her subject,
she sat down at her window. The day threw a quiet-
ness over the landscape she beheld from it ; and the
train of her ideas corresponded with that quietness.
Love and admiration of her father, and joy at the
candour, and recovery as she thought it of the man
she admired, gave a softness to her soul, which she
took no pains to interrupt. She continued long and
pensive in her seat ; and if ever happiness visited a
mortal bosom, this innocent and pure creature felt it
then.
On the other hand, Evelyn, however pleased with
the candour with which Tremaine seemed to return
from error to the right path, was concerned to find
his eccentricities so much wider than he had ever
supposed them. What he had acknowledged made
him lament to suspect that more remained behind;
and the recent discovery which he thought he had
made of his daughter’s partiality, produced a resolu-
tion that he would sift the whole matter to the bot'
tom, the very first opportunity.
m
TREMAINE.
CHAP. XXV.
te And have with holy bell been knoll’d to church.”
SHAKSPEARE.
It was not long before this good friend, and good
father, was furnished with an occasion to clear up
all his doubts ; and we are sorry to say, that his cer-
tainties made him even more unhappy than his sus-
picions.
From what small circumstances the greatest events
have arisen, so as to colour, and even change the fate
of nations, has been the theme of many a poet, his-
torian, and philosopher. That such is the course of
things, must be still more true in the little history of
private life.
A mistake of Dr. Juniper’s housekeeper, in not
properly apportioning the ingredients of his medi-
cated gingerbread nuts (the only form under which
the Doctor could suffer medicine to be administered
to him), and which mistake happened most critically,
on a Saturday, occasioned an indisposition which
lasted all the next day, and prevented him from per-
forming the church service at Woodington ; of which,
be it remembered, he was the worthy Rector. It
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235
was the more unlucky, because the Doctor’s curate,
who kept a little school in the village, in which he
wasted his spirits for eight precious hours a-day,
having dismissed all his scholars to one of their peri-
odical vacations, had asked and obtained leave of his
chief to dismiss himself to that happy idleness, so
sweet to those who have earned it, so burthensome
to those who get it for nothing. It was the only mo-
ment of the year when Fortune seemed to place the
deputy on a level with the principal ; if indeed she
did not on such occasions elevate him a few degrees
higher in the scale.
Be this as it may, the curate was absent ; the
Doctor was ill ; there was nobody to officiate ; the
clerk was in dismay ; the whole village alarmed; and
the sexton had actually begun tolling the bell, with-
out being certain that a message which J uniper had
sent over to his brother Rector at Evelyn, for the loan
of his curate, would be attended with success.
Conceive the delight of all the functionaries of
Woodington parish, to say nothing of the Squire of
Woodington himself, when Dr. Evelyn’s post-chaise,
with his fat, long-tailed geldings, and their round-
sided driver, was seen to enter the Hall gates, from
which it was but a walk across the garden to the
church. Nearly all the congregation were already
assembled.
Though Tremaine had little other communication
with Juniper than that of mere civility, having in
fact scarcely ever entered his parish church since his
236
TREMAINE.
arrival, yet so great an event as a Rector’s illness on
a Sunday morning, and during the absence of his cu-
rate, could not fail of being made known to him, as
it was by the pious Watson, together with the means
taken to obviate the difficulty. He was therefore
more pleased than surprised, to receive his visitors
from Evelyn Hall, for both were, as usual, together.
Evelyn had in fact, as soon as he received Juniper’s
message, resolved to attend himself, and leave his
own parish for that one morning to his curate ; in
which, it must be owned, he was not without design :
for he thought it might be a mean to tempt Tremaine
to church ; and once there, he trusted to his always
high notion of the efficacy of public worship, to pro-
duce some good, however small, to the balancing
mind of his friend. If the whole truth be demanded
of us, we may perhaps be obliged to confess (and why
should we be ashamed of it), that this good man ex-
pected, or at least hoped, that some little of the good
he wished for might arise from his own exertions.
If he, however, did hope thus, let it not be sup-
posed that it was from any inflation of spirit, any
of that tingling, tickling self-complacency, which
smooths the brow, while it appears most wrapt in
humility, of that well-known character, a popular
preacher in a London pulpit.
With the hope then that has been mentioned,
Evelyn furnished himself with what he thought
would be an appropriate sermon for the pulpit at
Woodington; not conceiving that Woodington’s
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237
master could refuse his attendance. Nor in this last
was he deceived, for to his own satisfaction, and
Georgina’s great pleasure, Tremaine offered instantly
to escort them into the church, where the belfry seem-
ed to be giving way under the redoubled strokes of
the honest sexton above mentioned, who, at the en-
trance of so great a divine as Evelyn was every where
considered, knolled in a sort of triumph, proportion-
ed to the fears he had entertained, lest there should
be no divine at all. The whole church-yard too,
which by this time was full, saluted the Squire and
his well-known guests; and great was the elation of
Mrs. Watson, and many her condescending nods
and bows, exchanged with the better sort of her pa-
rish neighbours, smirking in their clean shirts, sab-
bath-day suits, and new-shaven beards, and throng-
ing about her, to notice the phenomenon of seeing
the Squire at church.
“ Doctor be so ill, we thought there’d bin no ser-
vice,” said one. 66 I spy’d un first. I know heavy
Solomon and his long tails half a mile off,” said ano-
ther. u I dare say a’ll make a foin discourse,” cried
a third. u Meeting be quoit desarted,” observed a
fourth. u Yes, and old Mr. Barnabas is quoit hag-
gled with it,” exclaimed a fifth.
By this time the surplice bell was done, and Eve-
lyn in the desk, turning over the leaves ; and so great
an attention had this little novelty, combined with
their respect for him, excited among these simple
people, that instead of the usual scraping of hob-
TREMAINE.
>
238
nails, a pin had been heard if it had fallen that morn-
ing in Woodington church.
Tremaine took his seat by Georgina, in the Hec-
tor’s pew, abandoning his own in the gallery above,
hung all over with crimson cloth. Behind, were
seats of green baize, filled by his numerous domes-
tics, all save Monsieur Dupuis, who, under pretence
of being a Catholic, denied himself utterly to all Mrs.
Watson’s entreaties, nay even her tears, to be pre-
sent upon this occasion ; which, some how or ano-
ther, had assumed an air of peculiar solemnity.
Reader, I am perfectly aware to how much I have
exposed myself, by entering into all these minutiae,
in a matter of such seemingly little moment, as a
strange clergyman preaching in a country church.
I shall perhaps be accused of twaddling, and re-
minded of the by-gone days of Sir Roger de Co-
verley. But the truth is, that this particular Sunday,
and this very church attendance, were most critical
in determining much of the fate of two very excel-
lent persons, in a manner perhaps such as the reader
does not expect ; and I feel obliged to describe every
thing that led to it. But even if it had not been so,
I am not ashamed of my subject; which, whatever
Lady Gertrude or Mr. Beaumont may think to the
contrary, must ever be an interesting one to human
nature, while the heart of that nature beats.
u If ever the poor man holds up his head (says
language better than mine), c£ it is at church : if ever
the rich man view him with respect, it is there : and
TREMAINE.
239
both will be the better, and the public profited, the
oftener they meet in a situation in which the consci-
ousness of dignity in the one is tempered and miti-
gated, and the spirit of the other erected and con-
firmed.”^)
Despise not therefore the little anxieties which the
chance of losing their service and their sermon had
occasioned in the hearts of these plain, or, if you
will, these uncouth people. Analyze those anxie-
ties, and dissect those hearts, and your own will
possibly not shew above them, even though you may
be Right Honourable, and breathless perhaps from
the favourable or unfavourable appearance of the
House, on some night critical to the place, power,
and influence of those whom nothing but place,
power, and influence, can excite.
Supposing that some of my readers have been to
church, and supposing them to have one spark of
religious feeling in their composition ; or if that is
too much, supposing, what all would be affronted
not to have supposed concerning them, that they
possess what is called taste, imagination, a glow of
thought and warmth of soul — why then they will at
some time or another of their lives have been pene-
trated with the pathetic beauty of our affecting Li-
turgy. It survives even the dull obtuseness of the
hard-hearted machines, which sometimes are per-
mitted, for our sins, to obscure and depress it by their
(a) Paley’s Moral Philosophy, Vol. II. p. 56.
240
TREMAINE.
leaden delivery. What must it have been in the mouth
of one of kindred spirit with those who composed it ?
Such a one was Evelyn. The impressiveness of
his manner we have talked of in other things ; but
here he seemed inspired, though he was merely sin-
cere in his feeling, and plain in his enunciation.
Tremaine never was so struck. With his imagi-
nation and warmth of feeling, the reader indeed is
acquainted, as well as with his endeavours to mar
and stifle them, from the unhappy cast of his artifi-
cial life and studies.
“ Vain wisdom all and false philosophy.”
From this laudable impulse, he strove to check the
rising feelings of nature ; which, not a little aided by
the sight of Georgina by his side, in the purest acts
of devotion, as her father read on, grew almost too
strong for him.
We grieve to say, the philosopher conquered, and
the man of nature, after a struggle, was forced to
yield, and thought he felt all the sympathies upon
which Evelyn had so well enlarged in their last con-
versation upon the subject ; although he bent his
knee, and even whispered out a hope that he might
be enlightened, if really he w as in error ; yet he rose
without his hope being heard : his pride of reasoning
returned, and he forced himself to think, that there
was no proof of the reasonableness of his feelings
beyond sympathy, and that that sympathy was weak-
ness.
TREMAINE.
241
In this train of thought he was ill prepared for the
sermon that followed ; that sermon from which Eve-
lyn, with honest confidence, had hoped such good
effects.
The text was a solemn one . — 66 The foolish body
hath said in his heart, there is no God.” It went
on, u Tush they say, how should God perceive it ; is
there knowledge in the Most High?” u These are
the ungodly, these prosper in the world, and these
have riches in possession, and I said, then have I
cleansed my heart in vain.”
The discourse, such as might be expected from
the preacher; the moral as well as the natural go-
vernment of the world, by Him who created it; his
competency ; his willingness ; the necessity for his
interference ; his actual interposition ; in short, the
whole proof of Providence, though by second causes ;
lastly the immortality of the soul, a future judgment,
and the certainty of retribution ; — all these formed
the topics of the most impressive sermon to which
Tremaine had ever listened. With whatever im-
pression, not a word of it was lost.
In fact, it at least so far answered Evelyn’s hope,
that Tremaine’s mind seemed filled with it, and after
the congregation were dismissed, and his guests had
accompanied him to the house, previous to their re-
turning home, far from doing the honours with his
usual alacrity of attention, he became abstracted
and silent, and with even Georgina still by his side,
seemed to wish to be alone.
VOL. II. M
242
TREMAINE.
Evelyn observed this as well as his daughter, and
partly hoping, partly believing the cause, and wish-
ing him to ponder the momentous subject which he
saw agitating him, took his leave at once, and re*
mounting his substantial vehicle, returned home.
CHAP. XXVI.
CONFESSION.
MR. TREMAINE FORFEITS ALL PRETENSIONS TO FASHION.
“Oh, thou eternal mover of the heavens,
“ Look with an eye of pity on this wretch V*
SHAKSPEAltE.
At home and alone, and the world once more
shut out, the mind of Tremaine gave a loose to the
serious train of thought which had now been gene-
rated. The subject had always been of the very first
importance to his feelings, and he had always fled
from it as a matter he could not settle with himself,
rather than as one he had already settled on the side
which his fastidious doubts made him support.
The clear and decided opinions which Evelyn had
promulgated from the pulpit, sat so naturally upon
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243
him, as to give him the air and weight of an apostle.
But from this very circumstance, such was the
strange and tortuous cast of his understanding, that
Tremaine set a guard upon himself, lest it should
influence him improperly.
44 Truth,” lie said, 44 might be disguised, but never
demonstrated, by air and manner.” A kind of false
honour, therefore, combined for a time, with false
notions, to produce the obstinate resistance he was
inclined to make against his better feelings.
He yielded, however, so far as to exclaim, 44 Oh
that this strong-minded man could be successful in
convincing me ! But adoration and thanksgiving are
not prayer ; and even a particular Providence, which
is every where denied by experience, may exist in
this life, without a life to come!”
Still his prejudices were so far beaten down, that
he turned his eyes inwardly on himself, and was far,
very far from easy with the scrutiny.
44 I am myself an instance,” said he, 44 of one of
my friend’s sagacious remarks, that left to ourselves as
to duty, we shall first postpone, then neglect, and
then renounce. Alas ! that I could recall those
happy moments of gratitude to heaven, when in the
morning of life all things promised gladness, and I
was glad ! Yet then I was poor, and my fate uncer-
tain. Now that I am lord of this wide and beauti.
ful domain, how changed, how hardened is my heart !
Such, oh world ! are thy spoiled children ! — such the
rewards of unceasing dissipation.”
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TREMAINE.
“ For swinish gluttony
“ Ne’er looks to Heav’n amidst his gorgeous feast,
“ But with besotted, base ingratitude,
“ Crams, and blasphemes his feeder !”
He could not support his emotions, but rushing
out of doors, and plunging into a dark and retired
walk, taxed his heart, with all the bitterness of re-
morse.
The walk led him insensibly to a spring, which
his uncle, (a contemplative man, the last posses-
sor of Woodington) had nursed with great care.
After winding under a very beautiful bank, it seemed
to repose in a basin, which it was doubtful whe-
ther nature or art had prepared for it, so neat,
yet so wild was its appearance. It here had all the
clearness and all the stillness of an immense mir-
ror ; but on its margin art showed itself in a
manner not to be mistaken : for not only some
benches surrounded a well kept turf, but the busts of
several of the dead, the honour of England’s piety,
as well as England’s philosophy, filled the eye with
interest, and fixed its attention. They were of Ba-
con, Milton, Newton, Cudworth, and Locke, to
which had been more recently added Clarke and
Johnson.
It was the joint work of the late Mr. Tremaine
and of Evelyn, on whose grounds it bordered.
But the present master of Woodington knew very
little of this possession of his ; for he had visited it
but once, and with that glazed apathy with which
TREMAINE.
245
the state of his mind, when he first came down,
made him visit every thing. He recollected indeed,
that when he saw these consecrated busts, he had
resolved to add those of Bolingbroke, Shaftsbury,
and Voltaire, to the number ; but the resolution had
been laid aside, together with the remembrance of
the place itself.
In his present frame of mind, his entrance into
this assembly, (for such it appeared) struck him as if
be had viewed the gardens of Academus.
He fell into deep musing as he looked at these
busts, and recognized the character and works of
those they represented.
“ They were great men,” said he, “and certainly
as to intellect, the pride of their species. Alas ! why
cannot I think as they?”
He walked the border of the spring, in a sort of
agitated pace, now looking up to heaven, now on the
features of the departed sages.
“ They were also,” he added, 66 sincere in their
opinions, and at the very least, as wise, and a great
deal more learned, than those who opposed them !” —
and he thought of Bolingbroke.
“ How then can I refuse to yield to such autho-
rity ? Why is my soul so stiff? I will not indeed, like
the sceptic, doubt of every thing, but I can be certain
of nothing. Oh ! God, enlighten me, and touch my
heart !”
At that moment he was a little surprised, but not
ill-pleased with the sight of his friend.
m 3
246
TREMAINE.
It has been observed that the spring and its orna*
merits had been in part the work of Evelyn, and that it
bordered upon his grounds. This and an entrance key,
together with the beautiful retirement of the place,
made it in fact more an object of enjoyment to Eve-
lyn, than, as it happened, to the owner himself.
Accordingly, it was here Evelyn frequently came to
sooth himself in meditation, when meditation was
his object ; at which times he could dispense with
the presence even of Georgina.
A single glance sufficed to shew Evelyn that the
mind of his friend was by no means at ease. Indeed,
we have but ill depicted him, if, with all his faults,
the reader has not perceived long ago, that whatever
was the opinion or the feeling uppermost, it was
immediately to be read on his brow, or in his deport-
ment. In fact, no child was less master of that useful
and meritorious art, so necessary to all who set up
to govern or lead mankind, but which had through
his whole career failed this eccentric gentleman,
namely, dissimulation. I think he could not there-
fore, even if he would, have concealed from Evelyn^
that his reason and his feeling were at that moment
in contention together.
To the Doctor’s question whether any thing had
happened to disturb him, he replied with frankness,
and almost with eagerness— “ Yes, a great deal.”
Really, misled by this eagerness, his friend proceeding
to enquire what, he fairly told him. — “ Your sermon.
I give you joy,” he continued, 66 of your powers of
TREMAINE.
247
argument and elucidation, of your rhetoric, your
feeling, your piety, and eloquence. Would to God
I could give you and myself as much joy of your
powers of convincing.”
“ Is that necessary to do you good ?” asked
Evelyn.
“It would make me a happier man,” said Tre-
maine.
Evelyn perceived at once the fact, and the cause of
the commotion his friend seemed to be in, and
thought the time was come, when he might lay open
his principles, and examine his mind, as he wished.
He probed him deeply, and the result was not
happy.
The authority of the ancient academies, and the
perpetual undermining of the moderns ; the pomp of
Shaftsbury ; the glitter of Bolingbroke ; the specious-
ness of Hume ; and the wit of Voltaire, had, by being
continually pondered, acquired a sort of mechanical
ascendency over this determined enemy of all me-
chanism ; and he had habitually accustomed himself
to think only of them, without considering the sacred
book, or the immense authority on the other side.
He knew indeed that these existed : he had
formerly felt their force; but having, as he thought,
chosen his creed, he had for some time purposely
shunned them ; and the yearnings which every now
and then he could not prevent, he represented as the
effect of mere early prejudice.
His disposition of mind, however, was at present
m 4
248
TREMAINE.
any thing but proud. His heart was even softened ;
but it was a human heart; and inconceivable are the
wanderings and turnings, the sudden emotions, kin-
dled we know not by what power, and impelled we
know not by what accidents, which move and direct,
and melt or congeal that wayward heart.
Evelyn could meet with no satisfaction. He
found, he said, the mind of his friend in a heap of
ruins. Atheism was the only evil opinion from which
he was exempt. Deism, scarcely understood even
by himself, and obscured by constant doubt; a poor
opinion of human nature, scarcely distinguishing it
from brute ; a labyrinth of he knew not what notions,
about a plan without any intelligible object, and a
consequent necessity for order, the nature of which,
however, he could no where discover, but which
sufficed to make him utterly dzs-believe God’s moral
government of the world, and at least not believe in
the certainty of a future judgment ; — all these were
tenets, or rather no tenets, which filled Evelyn’s
heart with horror. On the other hand, there was no
assistance from authority or revealed religion, in
which, if he did not utterly reject it, he had lost all
confidence, and from which he derived no consola-
tion.
In short, he was without even hope.
The effect of this in regard to any man, on the
mind of Evelyn, may be conceived. But to see the
man he loved, and in many respects admired ; one in
whose mind so many good and even brilliant qualities
TREMAINE.
249
met ; one made for so much better things ; and above
all, one on whom his daughter might possibly
the thought harrowed him.
With an agitation he could not conceal, and with
even tears in his eyes, he grasped Tremaine’s hand,
and mournfully told him the distress into which the
discovery had plunged him.
Tremaine, much moved, begged him not to despair
for him. He confessed fairly that his mind was a
wreck, but that he was himself aware of many so-
phisms ; and that he was too uneasy under what he
really hoped were delusions, not to hope that he
might yet be enlightened. And he began, he said,
almos: to believe that Evelyn had been given him as
his friend, for that very purpose.
With a brow a little cheered, Evelyn again
squeezed his hand.
“ Such candour,” says he, u deserves every assist-
ance. Need I say that all I have the power of ren-
dering, my best services, my heart’s warmest zeal, are
yours ?”
Tremaine assured him he knew they were, and at
any rate told him not to conceive literally that he
was a determined Infidel, and careless and indifferent
from being determined; but lather to look upon
him as a philosophical searcher after truth, anxious
and happy to find her wherever she might be.
Evelyn replied, that provided there were really no
prejudices, he hoped the search might prove neither
difficult, nor long.
m 5
250
TREMAINE.
66 It will serve us many an hour,” said Tremaine,
“ and will only knit us more closely together.”
66 Alas ! my poor Georgina,” thought Evelyn.
It was then settled that they should lose no oppor-
tunity of discussing what was of such stupendous
importance in the minds of both ; the anxiety of
Evelyn, however, being certainly not confined to the
interests of one individual.
The multifarious, as well as absorbing interests
which prevented these opportunities from arising, till
all seemed hopeless and lost for all the parties con-
cerned, will be found in the following chapters.
CHAP. XXVII.
MUTUAL CONFIDENCE.
“ And I of ladies most deject and wretched,
tf< Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
“ Like sweet bells jangled out of tune.”
SHAKSPEARE.
The rest of the day was passed by both the
friends in much seriousness.
Tremaine shut himself up at Woodington, after
having asked Evelyn to stay with him to dinner, and
then retracted the invitation. He thought, he said r
TREMAINE. 251
it would do him most good to be alone ; to which
Evelyn observed he would for once assent.
At his own table, though enlivened by Georgina,
and Careless, who had complained of having been
lately as he said much cut by them, Evelyn was
himself remarkably thoughtful, and did not enter in-
to Jack’s gossip about the neighbourhood by any
means as Jack wished; or, to own the truth, as
Evelyn was himself frequently inclined to do.
“ This Mounseer Melancholy,” (for so he some-
times called Tremaine,) “ seems to have infected you
all,” said Careless, after having in vain tried to
bring out either the Doctor or his daughter into ge-
neral conversation. “ You used to like an account
of a day’s fishing, especially when I brought you the
spoil, as I did to day, a thing he never did in his life.
However, my Becky is right about him after all,”
concluded Jack.
ec In what?” asked Georgina, with some interest.
u Nay, you need not be touchy about it,” returned
the guest.
“Touchy!” said Georgina, with a degree more
of whatever feeling she had shewn.
66 Why yes ! touchy ; for you will never now let
me have a laugh at Woodington landlord ; and the
last time we talked of him, you quarrelled with me
for calling him Mounseer Melancholy.”
Georgina slightly blushed at perceiving her father
was examining them both, and was relieved by his
asking Jack what it was Mrs. Becky had said.
252
TREMAINE.
“ Why you see,” replied he, “I would hold my
Becky’s judgment against that of e’er a she in the
county. She often gives me good advice, not
merely as to pigs and poultry, but upon the world*
She has seen a great deal of the world you know.”
He said this hesitatingly, as if to know whether
Evelyn would agree with him.
“ No doubt,” replied the Doctor. a A sergeant
of militia’s wife must necessarily know a great deal
of the world, especially when she follows her husband
to the wars. I think the West York has been all
the way to Cornwall, and was full a year in Dover
Castle.”
u I think you are about quizzing me,” replied
Careless ; u but if you were to hear Becky of a win-
ter’s evening, when she comes in to stir up my fire,
and perhaps make my tea, while I am reading the
York Herald, you would say she was no fool.”
Though the Doctor was little disposed to it, both
Evelyn and Georgina laughed, yet in truth they had
both a great deal of respect for this good domestic.
“ But what is it she says of our neighbour ?”
asked Evelyn.
C( Why after all, to use her own expression, that
he is but a bingle bangle man, and that no good will
come on him.”
M I should be sorry to think that,” said Georgina,
yet still with something like consciousness at seeing
herself again observed by her father.
“ Becky says,” continued Careless, u he is one of
TREMAINE. 253
them men that thinks us all in the wrong box, and
that none but themselves can get us out of it.”
u That is a deep observation of Mrs. Becky,” said
Evelyn.
u Is it not rather taking a liberty with a person so
much her superior,” observed Georgina, u and
ought you to encourage it?”
u How can I prevent it,” returned Jack; u be-
sides it would hurt the poor creature sadly, if I did
not talk to her now and then, and I should be as
lonely and moping as the squire hiinselfi
6C However, this is not all that Becky says.”
u Pray edify us with the whole,” cried the Doctor.
u I will if you and Georgy won’t snap me for it.
She says no good will come on him in the way of
matrimony, he has so many strange new-fangled no-
tions : that he has used several young ladies very ill,
by shilly shallowing ; and hopes he is not playing
the same game with you, my dear Georgy. So now
the secret’s out.”
Spite of Georgina’s knowledge of Jack’s abrupt-
ness, and indeed her almost expectation, though
without knowing why, of something similar to this
allusion, she became sufficiently uncomfortable at
the speech to feel embarrassed.
Her father interfered by observing it was neither
pleasant nor advantageous to have a young woman’s
name coupled with a gentleman’s, and subject to
comments from people who could know nothing
about the matter.
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TREMAINE.
“ But they will do it,” said Jack, briskly, u and
I could no more stop Becky ”
u Than yourself,” observed Evelyn with some
gravity.
“ 1 at least am in the wrong box I find,” cried
Careless; “ but I cou’dn’t help thinking I was right
in putting you on your guard, for if any body, even
Squire Tremaine himself, was to use Georgy ill,
I’ll be ”
ee Don’t swear,” said Evelyn, good humouredly.
w Well, all I meant to say was, it should be the
worse for him the longest day he had to live,” con-
cluded Jack.
c( You are a true friend,” said Georgina, stretch-
ing out her hand to him and smiling; (( but indeed
in this case there is no occasion to try your regard.”
u I am sorry for it,” blundered Careless.
“ That’s odd too,” said Evelyn, u considering that
it can only be proved in the way you talk of, by sup-
posing your friend Georgy to be ill-used.”
u Wrong again I see,” said Jack; “ but what I
mean is, that I am sorry there is nothing in it ; for
Squire is a fine man, and a rich after all — that is if
Georgy could fancy him. But to say truth I could
wish something livelier for her. He is more suited
to Lady Gertrude than my lass.”
u Let us change the conversation,” said Evelyn.
66 I am dumb,” exclaimed Careless.
When Jack had taken his leave, which he did that
evening early, having promised, he said, the mother
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255
of his god-child, who lived a mile or two off, to hear
how well he could say the Primer, Evelyn, at her
own invitation, walked with Georgina to the rookery.
They were each to the other unaccountably silent.
The Doctor seemed much occupied with ascertaining
when the colony would return to bed from their
daily field excursions; and Georgina adopted the
subject for a time, as if she thought no other was
uppermost either with her father or herself.
At length, after playing a minute or two with his
hand, she observed, 66 I think, papa, you said you
had had a long conference with Mr. Tremaine, after
church this morning ?”
“ I had indeed, my child,” returned Evelyn ; “ and
may the good God bless the result !”
u It was then interesting ?”
(( To the very greatest degree ; and if I admire, I
pity our friend, more and more.’’
C( Pity !” exclaimed Georgina.
66 I must pity,” said her father, “ a worthy and
highly-gifted man, who is evidently unhappy.”
64 Unhappy ! and from what cause?”
“ From the sad riot which prejudice and too much
liberty and indulgence have made with his mind.”
u Can Mr. Tremaine be that sort of person?”
asked Georgina.
u He can, and is and yet I have hopes of him :
his heart seems in the right place.”
46 It seems an excellent heart to those who under-
stand it,” observed Georgina.
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u Are you one of them, my girl ?” asked the
Doctor shrewdly. “ Ts it a heart you have at all
studied, or in which you have at all an interest?”
u Studied ! interest !” echoed Georgina — cc Oh
dear no! As your friend, and one you so often say
yourself is fitted for better things, and indeed
he is very much improved of late I say as one, —
so fond of you ; and I may add so kind and attentive
to us both, that is, as ”
ec Proceed,” continued Evelyn, seeing her still
hesitate; u I am really anxious to know what you
would say.”
u I scarcely know myself,” said Georgina, “ and
indeed, my dear Sir ”
u I won’t be Sir’d,” cried the Doctor.
“ Well then, my dear father, as one who certainly
shews the greatest deference for you , and a sort of
respect and kindness in his manner towards me ,
which I cannot describe, but which no other ever
shewed ”
“ You have seen no other, my dear,” interrupted
Evelyn, “ but our friend Jack, and Lord St. Clair ; —
and to be sure, lately, Mr. Beaumont and Sir Mar-
maduke Crabtree.”
ct Oh ! they cannot be named with him,” ex-
claimed Georgina.
ec And yet, except honest Jack, they are all men
of fashion,” returned her father.
(s But not of feeling, of goodness, of delicacy,”
proceeded Miss Evelyn.
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257
(i I cry you mercy,” exclaimed the Doctor; “ I
did not know you had been so well acquainted with
these qualities in our world hater.”
“ Oh he hates nobody, only dislikes impertinent
people, and is good and delicate to all. Witness
his friend Colonel Osmond, and Melainie — and as
for Lady Gertrude and Miss Neville, you yourself
say you would have done as he did.”
“ He has at least an active defender in my good
daughter,” replied Evelyn; “and to that good
daughter I must now seriously address myself, for
I want to probe her little heart to the bottom.”
It was well for Georgina that the evening sun had
“ Stretched out all the hills,
“ And now had dropt into the western bay
in short, that the shadows w T ere thickening apace ; for
the suffusion of her cheek she would have sought in
vain to conceal. Some scattered rooks returning
before the rest, made a shew of diversion in her
favour, and she too began to be curious about their
motions ; but recovering in a moment, and pressing
her father’s arm, she said with a subdued but clear
voice, that she had not a thought she wished to
conceal.
“ There spoke my sweetest girl, my little confidant,
my own Georgy,” said the Doctor delighted. “ You
heard,” continued he, u the half meanings brought by
our friend Jack to day, the gossip no doubt of Mrs.
Becky, but also no doubt of his and our own village,
and probably of Woodington itself. And I own, my
love, 1 have many reasons, much as I like Tremaine,
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why I do not wish your names coupled together : at
least not until two or three important points are
cleared.”
“ May I know them ?” asked Georgina.
“You have the most entire right to do so,” replied
her father.
“ In the first place, I know nothing of our neigh-
bour’s heart.”
Georgina was silent.
“ That he is fond of woman’s society, and natu-
rally respectful, and even tender in his manner to
them where he esteems, is clear. It is equally clear,
(for how should it be otherwise ?) that he esteems
my sweet George.”
These last words instantly dispelled all remains of
embarrassment, if there were any, in the mind or
manner of the young lady ; for whenever her father
used the phrase of “ my sweet George,” she knew
that her always high favour with him w r as then at
the highest.
“ Still,” added Evelyn, u I know nothing of the
real working of a fine gentleman’s mind ; and how-
ever abrupt and obscure, and I will say unfounded,
our good Careless’s declaration may be about the ill
usage of young ladies, still it cannot be disguised
that he has paid attentions, impelled by his heart at
the moment, which he has afterwards discontinued.
I know it was his refinement that occasioned this,
and I verily believe him the soul of honour ; but
whatever the cause, the effect upon the female has
been the same.”
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m
u Do you think then,” said Georgina, “ that
Lady Gertrude was capable of that sort of love to
be hurt by his loss ?”
“ I do not,” replied Evelyn, “ but she may be
angry on other accounts, and at any rate is the talk
of the world.”
“True,” observed Georgina, lost in reflection.
“ Still,” pursued Evelyn, “ I do not mean that it
is even possible for him to use a woman ill.”
“ It is impossible,” cried Georgina.
“ I say I believe so,” rejoined her father — “ but
spoiled children may be capricious, and the disparity
between us in point of fortune — though that,” added
Evelyn, checking himself, u cannot be,” — and his
own disinterested, delicate mind, spoke for his friend,
and banished the thought for ever.
“ There spoke my dear father,” said Georgina.
“ Thank you,” continued Evelyn ; “ but then
again there is another disparity, which 1 have no
doubt would weigh with him much, if it would not
decide the. thing against him with a mistress, sup-
posing her to be young, and lively, and active as
my little girl.”
Georgina made no answer, and he went on to say,
“ All these things put together have given me some
painful doubts, even without another of a far more
serious sort, as to the mind of this fastidious person,
who, it is evident, would allow his heart to burst,
if he were really in love, which I know not,” conti-
nued Evelyn, “ that he is ”
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“ I am sure, nor I,” rejoined Georgina, perceiving
that her father waited for her : at the same time a
suppressed sigh escaped from her.
“ He would allow it to burst I say,” continued her
father, “rather than marry, or offer to marry the per-
son he most loved on earth, if he were not sure that
he was loved for his own sake in return, whatever
his faults, errors, or disparities.”
66 Call we blame him ?” observed Georgina.
ec No, indeed,” replied Evelyn ; u but all this be-
speaks an uncertainty, which makes me, I own, trem-
ble for my little girl.”
u You must not, my dearest father : if I know my-
self, you need not.’*
“ If!” said Evelyn.
“ And why should I not ?” asked Georgina, with
firmness. “ Has my heart usually so many conceal"
ments from you , much less from its mistress ? Has
it ever played me double ? — ever refused to answer
when l have tasked it ?”
“ No indeed,” said Evelyn. u You have ever
been the truest, honestest being that ever father was
blessed with ; and may the Almighty Father of all
bless you for ever for it !”
At these words he opened his arms, and Georgina
threw herself into them, and wetted his cheek with
tears as precious as virtuous feeling, joined to filial
piety, ever shed.
Recovering themselves, they sat down on a bench
which they had by this time reached. It was encir-
TREMAINE.
261
cled by a thousand flowers, which, as well as the fresh
grass of the adjoining field, seemed to emit peculiar
sweetness ; and the stillness and softness of the even-
ing appeared such as they had never enjoyed before.
But all this was in the mind ; without which, pro-
perly attuned, neither flowers, nor fields, nor 44 grate-
ful evening mild,” will have any effect upon wayward
man.
44 Tell me then,” my love, 44 continued Evelyn,
44 for it is most fit I should know, how stands this
dear heart towards this fascinating man — fascinating,
with all his errors ?”
44 Ah ! those errors !” cried Georgina.
44 What means my girl by this ; and to what par-
ticular errors does she allude ?”
44 Alas !” replied Georgina, 44 I fear they are such
as cannot be passed over. His little disgusts and
prejudices about the world ; his refinements and fas-
tidiousness ; all these are nothing, or might be cured ;
or if not cured, might yield to his excellent qualities,
his honour, sincerity, and generous spirit, to say no-
thing of his genius and his taste.”
44 Has he all this?” said Evelyn, in a tone of
scrutiny, as well as some anxiety.
44 I have promised to be honest,” observed Geor-
gina.
44 Be so, my love.”
44 Well then,” proceeded Georgina, 44 to me he
has all this, together with a manner and countenance,
and altogether a gentility , such as his years can
never extinguish.”
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66 That is going very far,” observed Evelyn, with
the same anxiety.
66 But with all this,” continued she, u and with
what would be ten thousand times more,
u What is that?” asked Evelyn hastily.
u A conviction which I am very far indeed from
having ; that he loves me ”
<c Proceed,” said her father.
66 Even with that conviction, and that he sought
my heart to be cherished by his, never could I give
it him, while I believed that he did not think of
heaven as ”
66 As what, my love ?”
66 As a man who sought your daughter, ought,”
concluded Georgina.
It would not be easy to describet he pleasure that
filled Evelyn’s mind at this speech. What had
passed had rather painfully convinced him that his
suspicions of her partiality were well founded. He
was at least not happy at the discovery, while so
many uncertainties hung about Tremaine, the small-
est of which was that which regarded his own state
of heart. But the fear of his religious principles
had weighed sorely upon this good father’s mind.
While they were even uncertain, to have seen an
union between him and his daughter, was the thing
on earth he would have most dreaded ; and he fore-
saw nothing but the most anxious difficulty for the
first time growing out of the fate of the innocent,
pure, and amiable Georgina.
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263
To have to combat and thwart the child of his
bosom, the being he most loved on earth, in an
attachment which, if properly sought for, every thing
connected with character, prudence, and honorable
feeling, seemed to encourage, was the least part of
his duty. To afflict such a creature in the tenderest
point of her happiness, for the first time in his life
to oppose a wish of his “ sweet George,” that wish
seemingly prompted by all that was natural, or that
could be approved by the world, — this was what
preyed upon him. Behold him in an instant reliev-
ed from all this by the piety and firmness of the
admirable creature herself.
No ! no father ever felt so proud, so reasonably
happy, so grateful ! It was sometime before he could
speak.
At length, after pressing her to his bosom, he
broke silence, and observed, t£ I always thought
my darling Georgy might in every thing be left to
her own unassisted nature ; but I could little have
hoped to be so anticipated in my anxiety about
her ! This was the last point in order, but by much
the greatest in importance, to which I was coming ;
for unless this can be cleared to our satisfaction,
never could I be happy in thinking that he loved
you. Never would I consent to give my angel to
an infidel.”
“ An infidel !” exclaimed Georgina. u Good
Heaven ! what horror. Indeed, Sir, you must be
mistaken.”
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44 I have my fears,” answered Evelyn ; 44 he at
least embarrasses me cruelly, for the mischiefs I had
apprehended are deeper than we either of us had
imagined.”
Georgina gave a deep sigh.
44 1 am most sorry,” said she mournfully.
u That he has been a hopeless Deist, which is the
very worst sort of infidel, is I fear too clear ; at best,
a poor shipwrecked being, tumbled and tossed by
every wave.”
“ It is too shocking!” exclaimed Georgina.
u At the same time, more candour, more sincerity,
I believe originally, I never met with ; and I am sure
he aims at truth.”
44 May we not trust to this ?” cried Georgina.
44 Surely your last conversation on prayer has dissi-
pated one error of the most serious kind :^and I own
I have thought of his ingenuousness ever since.”
44 There are monstrous ruins,” answered Evelyn,
44 and all to be cleared away before any thing can be
built up.”
He then communicated to his daughter much of
what had passed at the spring, and in particular the
confessions he had made as to a scepticism as wide
as it was distressing, although not all bereft of hope.
Georgina assured her father he need not be
uneasy for her, as however she might feel disposed
to think of Tremaine’s charm of manner, and con-
versation, yet she had two anchors for the safety of
her heart ; her ignorance of the feelings of his,
TREMAINE.
265
without a certainty as to which, were he even per-
fection, she ran no danger ; and the impossibility of
her being touched by the vows of one so hardened
as to deny the providence of Heaven.
Evelyn kissed her with an affection which even he
had never shown before ; and the relieved girl,
though pensive for the rest of the evening, retired to
very sweet slumbers, the reward and consequence of
this tender confidence on the part of her father, and
of the firmness as well as innocency of mind which
had created it.
CHAP. XXVIII.
CYNICAL.
“ This is some fellow
“ Who, having been prais’d for bluntness, doth affect
“ A saucy roughness.”
SHAKSPEARE .
The morning saw Georgina earlier than usual
among her flowers, to the consternation of Mrs.
Margaret, who, going at the ordinary hour, to help
her mistress in dressing, found that she had perform-
ed all that little service for herself. She had already
VOL. II. N
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266
indeed descended to a parterre she was very fond of,
which somehow or another exactly fronted the ter-
race and principal buildings of Woodington : and
with what reason we know not, Mrs. Margaret had
Ions set it down to an interest about the master of
Woodington, that Georgina was so often to be found
viewing that fine place from her parterre.
At this moment, perhaps, she was not far wrong.
The evening conversation (can it be w ondered at ?)
had sunk deep in Georgina’s heart. It was a heart
she had promised to task upon the subject of this
very person. The sun shone full upon the extensive
pile, which at that moment contained him ; and the
sashes and casements reflected its rays in dazzling
flashes, almost as far as Evelyn Hall. Could he fail
to be thought of?
But will it be believed by any one how he was
thought of? — Not certainly by the mere sons and
daughters of the world; nor is it to them I write.
There are even very amiable and good people, who
have no particular opportunity of thinking or acting
for themselves, but who would think and act rightly
if called upon, to whom Georgina’s conduct may
seem strange, certainly not common. Be this as it
may, the truth requires it to be told, that the first
minutes of her rising were always dedicated to
Heaven; and that on this particular morning, the pre-
ceding evening’s conversation was so interwoven with
her every thought, that Tremaine had a very large
share of the prayers she poured out to that Power
TREMAINE. 267
which alone could enlighten his understanding, or
touch his heart.
And never were purer prayers, and surely never
was man more favoured than by having such an in-
tercessor.
Now how will this appear, when related to the
young women of Georgina’s age, rank, and condi-
tion, who flutter in the world without an interval of
self-examination, without one instant of retired seri-
ousness, and, above all, without a thought or a care
as to the religious notions of those they call their
lovers ?
And yet attachments (or at least preferences) are
supposed to be felt even in the overwhelming dissi-
pations of a Town life : and at Almack’s itself, and
(though that is scarcely credible) even among Exclu-
sives, it is possible that some one heart may be just
so far abstracted from the glare of self-sufficiency,
and the love of general admiration, as to feel, what
for the moment may be called an interest about some
other heart.
The thing I allow is extremely doubtful, being
merely founded upon the fact that marriages have been
sometimes actually made up between certain peo-
ple of suitable ranks, fortune, and connections. Still,
however, it is possible; and if so (for I must still put
it hypothetically), let me ask what, even among these
favoured beings, would be thought of Georgina, for
the conduct that has been mentioned ?
The answer will be, that as none of them ever
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prayed for themselves, or heard prayers at all, except
at church, where decency compels them to go, the
thing is totally out of their sphere — they cannot com-
prehend it. That they might respect Tremaine while
in Town , as a man of the first monde, a fine gentle-
man, whom it would be very convenient to en-
courage, they might allow ; — but as to his religion,
it never occurred to them to enquire, nor was there
the least occasion to be anxious about it. To pray
for him therefore (if they knew how) w ould be totally
out of the question.
And who is it that would say this ?
Reader, you know and have seen them, and pro-
bably will start when you find they comprehend
most of your acquaintance, and probably yourself.
Many of them are persons to whom you even feel
bound to pay all the attentions of the world ; nay
some of them seemingly born to good, whom you
really respect, and fancy you could love ; but all,
all are lost and confounded together, under one
general uniform glare and glaze of manners, talk,
dress, countenance, and conduct.
That this is the fate and character of the votaries
of dissipation (that dreadful gulf which swallows up
all innocency and confounds all character) let him
deny if he can who has lived in the midst of it. If
he seek truth, let him tell you the progress of his
observation for a few short years at Almack’s, the
Drawing-Room, or other assemblies. Let him be-
gin with a young girl of fashion the first year of her
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269
presentation; all nature, dear unsophisticated na-
ture, without a concealment, a design, or desire, or
even a notion of appearing what she is not. Ob-
serve her bloom, her dazzling freshness, her cheek,
fresh as her mind ; her beaming eye, her careless
ease, her unstudied grace ! — View her the second :
less easy, less open, more upon the watch, more
studious of the graces of art, and already almost
acting. At the end of the period I have prescribed,
behold her again. She is already faded, and if not
married, irritated at not being so ; laying herself
out for that admiration which before had spontane-
ously followed her ; an actress consummate, full of
common-place, as well as affectation, in conversation
almost blue, in face almost haggard.
Such we have often heard Evelyn himself say
was the result of his observations, in his visits at
intervals to Town, on the effects of dissipation, and
the all confounding nature of a mere Town life. To
those who lead such a life this conduct of Georgina
will be utterly unintelligible.
Yet was she not inferior to any of them, scarcely
in birth or worldly consideration. In beauty, man-
ners, education, and accomplishments, she exceeded
them as much as natural grace can exceed that
which is taught.
And yet she was but a country girl. Let me
however not blame the rich and great more than they
deserve — Heaven knows they are more unfortunate
than faulty. From leading a life totally artificial ;
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from habits all fastidious ; from the want of all in-
terests which are the effects of personal exertion, to
which, (having every thing done for them) they are
for ever strangers ; — from all this, their faculties can
merely vegetate, and they would sicken and die of
ennui, if they did not turn night into day. As it is
in the blaze of assemblies, where the most extrava-
gant luxury courts them in vain, to even the com-
monest emotion of goodness, were it not for vanity?
they would sink, as they often do sink, into mere
lifeless automatons. But can vanity be always ex-
cited ? —and will not even this wear out ?
Alas ! yes ! or there would not be so much un-
reasonableness in the matter. — Yes! vanity itself
will expire, particularly if the votary is meant by
nature for better things. And let such a votary,
before the spring campaign is half over, but put
these simple questions to him or herself, am I happy?
— is this enjoyment (if enjoyment at all) more than
merely mechanical ? — Have I ever felt under this
oppressive radiance, this load of luxury, any one
single generous or tender movement of nature? If
the catechumen is candid, will not the answer
make him feel self-condemned ? and will not one
walk “ by a forest side or fountain,” one conversa-
tion (if ever he held one) with a daisied or prim-
rosed bank, while his mind glanced from their lovely
colours to the beneficent Power that created their
loveliness to sooth and chear him in his pilgrimage;
will not this I say, if he speak the truth, shew the
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271
utter inferiority of luxury in the production even
of pleasure ?
Observe, however, I speak this to those only who
have past the four or five probationary years men-
tioned in the beginning of this chapter ; in short, to
those ladies and gentlemen who are no longer in-
fants in the eye of the law, whatever they may be
in that of common sense.
CHAP. XXIX.
A DAUGHTER OF NATURE.
“ Verona’s summer hath not such a flower.”
SHAKSPEARE.
The subject grew so serious in the last chapter,
and prompted so many ideas bordering on personali-
ties; so many Lady Janes, Lady Georginas, and
Lady Katherines, seemingly born for dignity, or
gentleness, or the sweetest, softest intelligence, ye t
marring all, either by indifference, impertinence, or
an affectation of ungentle satire ; so many of these
diurnal and nocturnal spectres of quality rose up
before me, all threatening war on my country girl,
which war could not fail to involve myself in unplea-
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sant, perhaps fatal consequences, that I really felt it
most prudent to fly the whole chapter, and return in
a new one from Willis’s, and Cavendish, or any
other square you please, to Georgina’s flow r er-garden.
Observe, reader, how I have guarded myself by the
explanation in the important words, u any other
square you please;” for far be it from me to insinuate
that the particular Lady Jane, or Georgina, or Kathe-
rine, mentioned above, is to be found in that parti-
cular square. If she is, it is surely the most unlucky
square in all the town, and I the most unlucky of all
the moral philosophers that ever presumed to meddle
with a sophisticated lady of quality.
Thank heaven, Georgina was any thing but so-
phisticated ; and I present her to you in all the fresh-
ness and sensibility of her innocent mind, sucking
the early morning air, (I had almost said the early
morning dew,) with as much apparent pleasure and
advantage as the flowers which surrounded, and
which in beauty in vain seemed to rival her.
She was in truth one of the loveliest pictures that
could be contemplated by man, whether as a lover
of beauty, or a lover of virtue. Her white morning
robe floated in easy folds around her.
“ Dainty limbs, which Nature made
“ For gentlest usage and soft delicacy.”
They shewed a symmetry at every turn, which it
was not easy to contemplate with impunity, and there
was a grace and radiance about her, which might
TREMAINE. 27 3
have moved an Anchoret to worship far other things
than his beads told him of.
Her beauty indeed was of that winning nature,
that if a man by any chance but touched her handker-
chief or her glove, much more her hand (if the glove
was off), he was the happier for it the whole day long.
At the same time she filled the heart with admiration
of a much higher kind. For her goodness was so
sincere, and of so soft a nature, — there was such a
gentleness in her animation, and every feeling she had
was so founded in rectitude, that while the old
seemed to vie with one another in approving, the
admiration of the young was always tempered with
a respect which told them they honoured themselves
in honouring her.
At the moment we speak of she presented perhaps
the most interesting spectacle the world could exhibit ;
that of a young creature perfectly beautiful, and fully
disposed by nature to encourage the most exquisite
of our feelings, yet controlling ail, by a sense of piety
to Heaven. That feeling always so sweet, though
generally so imperceptible, which accompanies the
agitation of an incipient passion ; that dear delight-
ful feeling so exquisite to the gentlest natures, which
comes but once in our existence, and is therefore
known by the name of first love, was, without her
knowing it, about to take possession of her.
Her sentiments in regard to Tremaine, it cannot be
disguised, if all were well as to principle, wanted little
to ripen into all that even he could have wished. It
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was not enthusiasm, nor the baby ravings of a mere
girl; but it was a warm and rational interest, which
might in time have amounted to rapture.
It was in truth founded in admiration of many
parts of his character, and sufficiently in admiration
of his person and manners, to make her forget the
disparity of their years He was superior (how far!)
to all the other men she had ever seen ; even to the
young Lord St. Clair, who had all but sought her.
But in addition to this, his respect towards her was
of that devoted kind which always makes its way
into the heart of a young and feeling woman. He
had even moulded himself anew, and in some things
departed from what seemed his very nature, in order
to please her. Could he fail therefore with his su-
periorities of other kinds, his mental attainments, his
personal elegance, and added to all, his proximity to
her on all occasions, to impress a mind peculiarly
open to such impressions? — No! from the first, he
had been no common person with her; she saw him
loved by her father ; what wonder if she almost loved
him herself.
But all this was now about to yield, perhaps not
without a struggle, but it was to yield to the pure
feelings of devotion to her Maker, with which that
Maker had imbued her.
Her father’s caution, his fears and anxieties, his
affection, his praises, had encouraged and confirmed,
but had not kindled her resolution : — the decision
was her own.
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275
<c Oh ! help him, you sweet Heavens — ”
was now her prayer, as much as ever it had been
of Ophelia for that noble Hamlet, whose very name
fills us with love for almost every quality that can
inspire it.
To help and recover him from that u dreadful
shipwreck,” that “ monstrous ruin,” talked of by her
father ; to build the edifice anew, (and how fair she
thought it would be, if it could be effected) was now
her prayer to Heaven ; and every turn she took
among her flowers, and every look she gave towards
Woodington, she breathed this prayer in.#ll sincerity,
fervour, and humility.
Her heart was full.
In this situation, and with these thoughts of Tre-
maine, what was her surprise, what her confusion,
(may we not add her pleasure?) in perceiving at
the other end of the walk, and advancing rapidly
towards her, no other person than Tremaine him-
self!
276
TREMAINE.
CHAP. XXX.
IN WHICH THE HISTORY DESCENDS A LITTLE.
“ I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey.”
SHAKSPEARE.
The emotions which Georgina had undergone on
his account were not lost upon Tremaine when they
met. They gave indeed a pensive tenderness to her
features, which, gay and lively as they were, naturally
expressed sweetness still more than gaiety. This to
him was perfectly irresistible : but even if they had
not expressed this, in the disposition of mind he was
in, it would not have been easy for her to have
looked other than peculiarly beautiful.
But I have a very long story to tell, before I can
come up to the reasons for this ; and as it is absolutely
necessary for the elucidation of the fact, I must beg
my reader’s patience while I relate it.
Tremaine had passed the whole of the preceding
day, after his conference with Evelyn, in a manner
he had not experienced before. For the first hour
indeed he threw himself into a chair at his library
door, where he seemed immoveably lost in reflec-
tion, or, to a cursory observer, occupied only with
the contemplation of a sun-dial which rose a few
yards off.
TREMAINE.
277
His thoughts were profound, and his hopes lively,
for they were founded in the confidence he now
always reposed in Evelyn.
In proportion as this pleased him, (for it did please
him) he felt his veneration and affection for that
excellent friend increase ; and somehow or another ?
he never experienced this sort of sensation towards
the father, without its spreading in a glow all over
his heart towards the daughter.
I once consulted an Exclusive upon the reason of
this ; but she professed herself ignorant of the whole
affair. Monsieur Dupuis, it is to be presumed, un-
derstood it as little, though, being a Frenchman,
he was infinitely more knowing in matters of senti-
ment than any Exclusive of them all ; and though in
curiosity to know his master’s mind, inclinations, and
intentions, he exhibited les meilleures dispositions du
monde.
Twice had this person opened the library-door,
and twice presented himself to know if Monseigneur
would not dress, but without being perceived.
Monseigneur was a name he frequently bestowed
upon Tremaine to his face, and almost constantly
among the servants : and going in a third time, he saw
Monseigneur resting with his elbow on the sun-dial,
and his eye upon Heaven.
u II est fou,” said Dupuis to himself.
He however disclosed to him, that it only wanted
“ un petit quart d’heure to dinner,” and asked if he
would not dress ?
278
TREMAINE.
cc N’importe,” said Tremaine.
u Que diable!” answered Dupuis, loud enough
to be heard.
Ci Allez vous en,” rejoined his master.
Now though this was not said in a tone of anger,
it was with just the air of a man utterly heedless of,
and at best perfectly indifferent to the person he
spoke to. Monsieur Dupuis was offended.
6i II me compte pour rien !” said he, as he went
in, proceeding straight to the housekeeper’s room,
to complain of it.
u Soit fou, soit amoureux, il ne doit pas s’oublier
vis a vis de moi,” said Dupuis, entering the apart-
ment.
Mrs. Watson protested she did not understand
him.
“ II m’a manque,” cried Dupuis : for be it observ-
ed, whenever Monsieur Dupuis was greatly agi-
tated, which he was upon this occasion, all the little
English he had, failed him, and Watson was forced
to endure whole tirades of French, before she could
even guess what had happened.
u He mind me no more than Palliasse,” cried
Dupuis.
Watson, who was a woman of great simplicity,
and little learned in English, much less in French,
but withal a careful housekeeper, began to think of
her beds, and wondered what strange comparison
had got into the Frenchman’s head.
u He mind me I say,” continued tho valet, per-
TREMAINE.
279
ceiving she did not understand him ; “ he mind me
I say (growing very red) no more dan de jack
pudding.”
The good Watson now just understood enough,
to see he was making an angry attack upon his
master, and thought it best to beat a parley, before
it was pushed farther ; but could get nothing from
him, except that his master was in very bad humour,
and not disposed to dress.
u I suppose he no succeed wid de littel Georgy,”
cried the still irritated valet ; u et cela ne m’etonne
pas ; I no astonished.”
u What have you to do with Miss Evelyn ?”
asked Watson, drawing up with a degree cf resent-
ment.
There were indeed two or three points, in which
her respect for Monsieur Dupuis’s rank and situa-
tion in the family, mixed as it was with a little fear
of him, always gave way to her own sense of dignity.
One of these was the freedom of his remarks upon
his master ; and another, the familiar tone he some-
times used towards her favourite young lady,
whom she never liked any body to call even Miss
Georgy, but herself. But simple Georgy, and still
more, little Georgy, always provoked her spirit of
propriety to assert itself, and she never let it slip
out, (as it sometimes did from Mrs. Margaret
Winter, presuming upon having taken her from the
nurse) without giving it a becoming reproof.
Indeed it was a little curious, and not at all un-
280
TREMAINE.
pleasing, to observe the sort of honour the good
people of all degrees seemed to think they did
themselves, in making use of this little affectionate
diminutive of a name, not altogether common, and
which some of them might have found a difficulty in
pronouncing. They might indeed have called her
Miss Evelyn, and wherever she was not known,
such was her title. But this was among very few,
so active was her kindness, so affable her manner ;
and being the almost constant companion of her
father in all his excursions, of duty or benevolence,
not a cottage could she ride by, but she was recog-
nized. Except therefore, to very few, perhaps just
come into the parish, it seemed a gratification, a sort
of raising of themselves to a notice and protection
they were proud of, to speak to, or talk of her, as
Miss Georgy. To 1 ave called her Miss Evelyn
would have looked as if they had been out of the
pale of favour, and deprived of a familiarity which
was very sweet to them all.
“ What have you to do with Miss Evelyn,” asked
Watson with displeasure ; “ and where are your
manners, that you do not call her by her proper
name ?”
“Beg-gar,” replied the angry valet, u mes manieres
be as good as your master.”
Now this was a certain sign that he was not only
very angry with Tremaine, but ready to quarrel with
Watson herself. For on such occasions, by the stress
he laid on the w ord your, he always by implication
TREMAINE.
281
transferred the allegiance due to him as a master
exclusively to Watson, and renounced it for himself.
cc He is your master, as well as mine, I suppose,”
returned Watson.
u As he behave,” cried the valet ; u et pour la
petite, la bas, de littel Georgy, I no astonish she no
like him.”
66 1 am sure you know nothing about the matter,”
observed the housekeeper, getting more and more
angry.
66 As much as you, and Madame la vielle fille, wid
de cold name there ; how you call her ? Madame la
Brumaire.”
Watson just knew enough by this ; to make out
that he meant Mrs. Margaret Winter, and was about
to reply, when he continued in very voluble but
broken phrases, “ I see as far de mill stone as ano-
der, and I tell you more dan you tell me. I say I no
astonish dat de littel Miss she no like de old gentle 1 -
man, when she get de young.”
“ If you mean my master,” said Watson struggling
to keep her temper, and putting some dignity on the
words “my master,” for whom she felt all her own
pride summoned, “ he is not old ; and as for the
young gentleman, there is no such person, for 1 never
heard of him.”
“ Dat no reason,” replied the valet tauntingly,
“ and you better ask Madame la Brumaire.”
“ I am sure she does not know,” said the house-
keeper with some eagerness, yet by no mean,
282
TIIEMAINE.
amounting to confidence that she did not ; c ' for if
she knew, I should have known it myself.”
u You no be sure of that,” retorted the French-
man, 6C besides, you no visit la grande Dame, miladi
St. Clair.”
66 What of her ?” asked Watson with some sur-
prise, but changing to a tone of civility.
u A ! ha ! you ask me now,” replied the French-
man laughingly.
The laughing, and the sort of victory he thought
he had attained in exciting the old lady’s curiosity,
and diverting her entirely from the defence of her
master, put him in good humour, and he was about
to reveal to her the politics of the Mount St. Clair
cabinet, which he said he had discovered from Ma-
dame Deville, old Lady St. Clair’s own woman, and
Monsieur Martin, my lord’s own man, who though
pure English, he would have it, from the name, was
of French extraction — but the dinner-bell now rang.
TREMAINE.
283
CHAP. XXXI.
MORE OF THE LOWER CABINET,
“ You know
<f What great ones do, the less will prattle of.”
SHAKSPEARE.
When Monsieur Dupuis joined his master, he
was in consternation to find him sitting down, not
to table, as he ought to have been, in the dining-
room, but to a tray brought on a napkin to the
library. He was still in his morning-dress, and pen-
sive, amounting even to abstraction. His manner
was absent, and the repast short.
To complete the Frenchman’s astonishment, when
the dessert was brought, he found the book he had
chosen for his companion was the Bible.
c< Le voila absolument devote,” said the valet as
he took away the tray.
The incident was too remarkable not to be con-
veyed instantly to Madame la Concierge, who had
invited him to take his coffee (for he despised tea,)
in her room. This she did from two motives ; first
to shew that she was in perfect good humour with
him after their little fracas ; next, because the hints
he had dropt about the St. Clairs, and most particu-
larly that Mrs. Margaret was in the secret, and con-
TREMAINE.
284
cealed it from her, made it absolutely necessary she
should know more.
Now the first of these motives was the only one
assigned, which in so good and plain a woman, 1
confess puzzles me, as it often has in her betters,
with whom it is not unusual when they have a strong
and a weak motive for any particular conduct, and are
called upon for their reasons, to assign the weak one
first, if they do not wholly conceal the other.
“ Why, Sir, it is human nature.”
“Indeed! But I’m afraid tills Increases rather
than explains the mystery.”
“ Le voila absolument devote !” said Dupuis.
Now in France, with the other sex, as Dupuis
very well knew, when a great beauty, however potent
her charms, or extended her empire, began to be
sensible, from the defection of her subjects, that her
reign was drawing towards an end, she generally was
wise enough to retire in time ; and as attention to a
husband, the education of children, or other trifling
domestic occupations were very far beneath a French
woman’s ambition, as giving no sort of eclat, she had
nothing, left for it but to become devote.
Celebrity might here still pursue her. Religious
enthusiasm was all that was necessary to make her
notorious, and provided she was notorious, it mat-
tered little for what. — whether for the vehemence of
her love, or the vigour of her repentance, the world
equally talked.
This was admirably managed in France, and far
TREMAINE. 285
better than the homely fate of English coque tterie
“ A youth of conquests, an old age of cards."
All this in regard to women, was perfectly familiar
to Monsieur Dupuis, though no more intelligible to
the partner of his reign in the family at Woodington,
to whom he had to explain his surprises founded
upon it, than the most abstruse hypothesis of old
Shandy to the meek blunt faculties of Mrs. Shandy
herself.
The belief that his master was turning devote was
confirmed by a variety of probabilities, and veri-
similitudes, all of them acting on the same spot of
brain in the pericranium of Monsieur Dupuis, and
altogether amounting to very fair proofs of the
positive fact.
These proofs were first, the activity of Tremaine’s
benevolence lately kindled, and so totally unlike any
thing of the kind he had been in Town.
Next, his entire seclusion from the world ; or at
least his exclusion of all society but that of a
country clergyman and his daughter.
His attentions indeed to the daughter had been
pretty pointed, and uniform ; but from this very cir-
cumstance, and because hitherto no result had follow-
ed, it is clear he had been rejected. Then again
his youth was gone, and the disparity of their ages
only acquired greater weight as an objection, from
the half discoveries and hints which he, Monsieur
TREMAINE.
2S 6
Dupuis, had picked up in visiting his countrywoman
at Mount St. Clair, from which hints and discoveries
he seemed to take for granted that all was entirely and
satisfactorily settled, and that Lord St. Clair was
soon to receive the hand of Miss Evelyn.
From all this it was clear that, like a French beauty
grown stale, his master had nothing left for it but to
become devote ; and this was now completely prov-
ed by the detection of the fact, that he had actually
been so occupied with the Bible, as to have been
unmindful of his dinner.
The difficulty was to explain all this to Mrs-
Watson, who, even if she had understood the French
language, could never be made to understand French
manners ; and as the whole was an enigma, except
the word devote, and Monsieur Dupuis could only
explain that by the word methodist, his undertaking
was not an easy one. In short, it ended in his
assuring Mrs. Watson as a fact, without the trouble
of reasoning, that Lord St. Clair was coming down
lO marry Miss Evelyn, who had in consequence
refused the offered hand of her master, and that her
master had in consequence turned methodist like
herself.
The last intimation would have been a cordial to the
heart of the good woman, could she have believed it,
and she took occasion only from the circumstance that
it was possible to give excellent advice to her light
and licentious coadjutor, on the propriety of following
his master’s example. Far however from being won>
TREMAINE.
287
Monsieur Dupuis asked her if she took him for one
of the canaille, or if he looked like a man disappoint-
ed in love ? He boasted that he and his master were,
in this respect, very different people, and announced
his intention of taking another place.
u Ici,” said the Frenchman. “ Je m’ennuie a perir.”
Of the designs at Mount St. Clair she could make
out little or nothing, except that old Lady St. Clair
had confessed her wish to Madame Deville, her wo-
man, that her son should marry, and that Miss Evelyn>
of whom she had always been very fond, and was
her relation, should be the object of his addresses.
Both the events however were in the opinion of the
pious Watson, not only within a contingency, but
even a probability. The alliance had been the talk
of the country till Tremaine came down; and as to
the conversion, the very circumstance of his former
disbelief made it likely, as Providence, she said,
was always most busy with those who were most
disposed to rebel against its power.
Be all this as it might, the conjectures and reason-
ings of the housekeeper’s room, upon the state of
affairs in the library or drawing-room, might in
general have been much more distant from reality
than in this instance. Tremaine, as we have seen,
was occupied with the Bible, which he was much
more used to criticise than to examine ; and in the
midst of the conference on the report of the intended
marriage, no less a person than Mrs. Margaret her-
self arrived to take part, and to confirm it.
288
TREMAINE.
The Woodington housekeeper received her at
first with some distance, gave her a stately kind of
bow, and was so dignifiedly civil, that Mrs. Mar-
garet began to suspect all was not right, not only
in the housekeeper’s room, but in the cabinet of
Woodington itself.
The eagerness however with which Mrs. Mar-
garet came to announce that Lady St. Clair had the
evening before written a very long letter to Miss
Georgy, who had shewn it to her papa, and that
that very evening the young lord had arrived ; this,
together with no indisposition to join in the com-
ments that were made upon it, dissipated all notion
in the president of Woodington, that she had de-
signedly been kept out of the secret, and with this
her good humour and condescension returned.
“ And yet,” said Watson, u I shall be very sorry
if this news is true. I loved Miss Georgy so much,
that I hoped she would have been my lady here ;
but Providence knows best.”
C( Indeed.” observed Winter, 66 that’s what I say;
and as your master, Mrs. Watson, is so long about
it, and St. Clair is quite as near to the Doctor as
Woodington, and my lord so much younger, indeed
so much upon the square as one may say with Miss
Georgy as to age, and my old lady wishes it so
much, and so very fond of her, and the house so
gay, and all that why I think perhaps its
best after all.”
u But is it settled ?” asked Mrs. Watson.
TREMAINE.
289
(£ l can’t make out exactly,” replied the virgin ;
(C but to be sure it will be, without a doubt : — no shilly
shallying there ; and I know my mistress was very
serious indeed all the morning after she got the old
lady’s letter ; and I listened when she and the Doctor
were together, but could hear nothing, only I’m sure
they were talking about it ; and to be sure there will
be a large jointer, as indeed so there ought, consider-
ing all Evelyn will be her’s, and a handsome fortin
besides.”
u You seem to have quite settled this matter,”
said Watson with some stiffness.
u La ! settled ! no ! only what must be, must be,
you know.”
u True,” said Watson with resignation, and began
to meditate upon predestination.
The result of all this was, that Dupuis, finding his
friend Monsieur Martin was arrived, and that it was
a very fine evening, resolved to proceed to Mount St.
Clair, as he said to faire une reconnoissance; for
which purpose he gave his orders to Jonathan the
groom to saddle one of his master’s horses; an order
which Jonathan did not dare to disobey.
The two housekeepers, after half an hour’s walk
towards Evelyn, separated, each of them resolved,
that very night, if possible, to sound the intentions
and feelings of their respective chiefs.
VOL. II.
O
290
TREMAINE.
CHAP. XXXII.
WHICH EVEN AN EXCLUSIVE MAY ALMOST
UNDERSTAND.
“ When I would pray and think, I think and pray,
** To several subjects. Heav’n hath my empty words ;
(t Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,
“ Anchors on Isabel.”
SHAKSPEARE.
Strange as it may seem, though the chances of
executing their purpose were altogether in favour of
Mrs. Winter, the good Watson was nearest success.
Mrs. Margaret indeed consumed an unusual portion
of time at her young lady’s undressing ; had every
thing to pin and unpin, fold and unfold, as if she had
suddenly become forgetful, lame, or awkward ; reliev-
ing the delay, however, by an unusual portion of con-
versation, if conversation it could be called, where
one of the parties alone seemed endowed with the
gift of speech.
Georgina was in truth unusually silent, nay absent,
and seemingly in no hurry to get to bed; which made
her the less sensible of her duenna’s uncommon slow-
ness, but at the same time less alive to the hints and
gossip with which she interlarded all the delays of
the toilette. But though Mount St. Clair, and old
Lady St. Clair’s fondness for her young mistress, and
TREMAINE.
291
the young peer’s arrival in the country, as well as his
fortune, accomplishments, and good person, were
often mentioned, Mrs. Margaret could in fact get
nothing out of Georgina, who seemed wrapt in
thought, till her attendant was forced, from having
exhausted all pretences for farther loitering, to leave
her for the night.
A sanguine, keen mind, however, is never at a loss;
that sort of mind which is formed for great exertions
and discoveries, and causes all the great things that
happen in the world. This prolific mind is precisely
the same, whether in a statesman, philosopher, or
chamber-maid; only in the last it is bent, for the
most part, on merely discovering a secret ; in the
others, on turning it to politicaraccount, or twisting
every thing to an hypothesis : and this sort of mind
to a certain extent did Mrs. Margaret possess. Re-
solving therefore not to be baffled in her own ex-
pectations and opinions, and what was much more, in
her representation of them, so recently made, she
very fairly set down all this reserve and absence on
the part of her young lady to feelings perfectly
accordant to her own view of the subject, and re-
garded it as the strongest possible confirmation of all
the surmises she had hazarded. A.nd in this I should
be glad to know how she differed from the most
far-sighted politician or philosopher of them all.
She was quite sure, she said, that unless Miss
Georgina had been thinking still of Lady St. Clair’s
letter, and that letter had contained the young lord’s
o 2
292
TREMAINE.
proposals, she would never have been so silent or so
long in undressing. And this notion got such posses-
sion of her, that she would that very night have com-
municated her intelligence to her friend at Wooding-
ton, but that she was deterred by certain doubts and
difficulties as to writing and spelling; in which it
must be owned her education had been lamentably
deficient.
We have said that Watson succeeded better; and
as far as communicating to her master the great
design of the St. Clair family, she did so.
Tremaine had, we will not say
“ Supp’d full of horrors,”
but he had dined full of the most serious thoughts
and arguments upon the great subject which had
engaged him that morning with Evelyn. We have
also remarked that in whatever shape the father pre-
sented himself, he was now always accompanied
by the idea of his daughter.
Never had either Tremaine’s head or heart been
so full. He felt in regard to the present state of his
mind on religious subjects, that there was a connec-
tion between himself and his neighbours, for which
he could not exactly account, but which he also felt
w r as of infinite importance to him.
It is not without some reluctance that we record
this ; for we had rather his serious and eager endea-
vour to come round to Evelyn’s opinions had been
beyond the reach of suspicion, and altogether uncon-
TREMAINE.
293
nected with any other feeling than that pure desire
to satisfy his doubts, and recover his piety, with
which he was certainly actuated.
But though his feeling was really thus pure, the
truth we have consulted throughout this history
obliges us to admit, that the pleasure he felt in the
hope of light once more breaking in upon his long
darkened mind, was at least heightened by the
thought that he and Georgina, his dear Georgina,
would be more and more alike in their way of think-
ing. This was the subject of his long reverie before
dinner ; and it was the recollection that she could
never be otherwise than piously grateful in a fine
day, that drove him to the sun-dial. Here a thought
struck him which led to long and deep reflection,
in which the Bible became of the greatest conse-
quence.
The dial, and its awful yet interesting accom-
paniments of all the wonders of the Heavens,
brought him, not indeed for the first time, nor as if
it was new, but peculiarly and cogently in his then
frame of mind, to the admission, or rather firm con-
viction, that there must be a power, invisible, in-
tangible, inaudible, unsearchable, yet Almighty,
and always present, in us and about us; a power
that, whether we were mere dust, and worms, or
allied to angels, was able at least , if it pleased, to
direct and govern us.
Whatever became of free will, or the theories in
Tremaine’s mind, in regard to u the order of things,”
o 3
294
TREMAINE.
— <c a necessary system, distinct from moral good or
evil ” this interference or influence, call it what
you please, had become at least possible.
The point, as I observed, was not new ; but some-
how or other it had never before struck him so for-
cibly, or gone so direct into his heart. All this he
attributed to the sermon of the morning, nor did he
therefore feel it the less. Well then, interference
was possible ; and why not therefore, said Tremaine,
probable ?
Because, answered his scepticism, there is no
proof in history of such interference. The Bible
however instantly flashed across him, as contradic-
tory to that assertion. The whole sacred history
uprose before him, consisting of nothing else but
this interference.
These Jews were a singular people, continued he
in his musing. Whatever their pride, vanity, weak-
ness, apostacy, ingratitude, meanness, or misery,
this point is clear, that alone in the world, while all
the nations were buried in the most dreadful bar-
barism as to religion, they maintained theirs for the
most part clear and pure* They cultivated what
they thought the true God, in opposition to the
idols of heathenish superstitions, and boasted that
they lived under his visible care, obeyed him as their
temporal king, received his laws, and almost heard
his voice in the way in which he chose to reveal it.
Hence the fact of a regular uniform assertion of the
interference in question, believe it as you may. The
sceptic therefore cannot say there is nothing in his-
TREMAINE. 295
tory, to shew that the pretence has not been at
least asserted.
The thought led him to profound reflection, and
reflection to questions too interesting not to pursue,
develop, and critically examine them in the only
book where they are to be traced. Hence his oc-
cupation, even to absorption, with the Bible, which
had challenged so much remark from the sagacious
Dupuis.
The lecture lasted as long as the light ; and when
that permitted it no longer, he stole out, with his
mind full (we wish we could say satisfied), to ar-
range and digest his crowding ideas in the stillness
which a walk, in a very still evening, presented, as if
on purpose, to sooth his perturbed sense.
How different from the Tremaine of his youth,
or even of his later years, when the hero of high life,
in the assemblies of London or Paris, the champion
of party, or the fastidious criticizer, yet devoted ad-
mirer *of the sex, he sparkled through a whole night,
amidst a blaze of artificial elegance, which, however
flattering to his senses, never, as we have seen, satis-
fied his heart !
The reason for this, as some very homely persons
have thought, was plain, namely, that God and
nature were not there. But this is a reason I will
never venture to give the world, for fear I myself
should be driven out of it. Indeed, I once pro-
pounded those very words to Lady Gertrude, but
she frankly told me she knew nothing about them ;
o 4
m
TREMAINE.
te For,” said she, with a naivete , which, all Exclu*'
sive as she was, she was not altogether without,
“ are 4 God and nature’ necessary in any part of
London ?” I drew in ; for I love a dear, elegant
votary of artificial life from my soul. There is
something so heroically insolent in an Exclusive ;
such a noble conviction of his or her superiority
over all the rest of the human race ; such a philo-
sophic independence of every thing which people of
mere nature look to for happiness, that I own I
view them with a degree of awe and veneration.
There is besides much real power of mind, in resist-
ing, as they do, all that wealth, pomp, luxury, and
taste, can effect, to please the eye, ear, and palate :
all which an Exclusive views, after the first acquaint-
ance with them, without a single emotion ; and this,
I say, is so philosophically stoical, especially among
mere young or fashionable people, that in point of
self-command it beats the Zenos and Catos of an-
tiquity, all to nothing.
I confess, therefore, I do not recommend Mr. Tre-
maine, in the gloomy recesses of his avenue, ponder-
ing at almost night, the attributes of the Creator,
and the awful subject of the Divine government of
the world, either to the notice or favour of his
former companions, still less as an object of envy ;
for far from being satisfied, he was still tossed in a
sea of doubt. All that was certain was that he had
become much of a renegado from his former feel-
ings and prejudices, had parted with much of hist
fastidiousness, and was comparatively humble.
TREMAINE.
2&7
In this situation, and as the reader may think in
a fair way of realizing the prognostics of that very
superior person, Monsieur Dupuis, (whom indeed
Mrs. Neville herself pronounced to be far beyond
his master in all the requisites for a philosopher or
a fine gentleman), he was met by his housekeeper.
That good lady had, as we have seen, accompa-
nied her friend Mrs. Margaret part of the way
home to Evelyn Hall ; which was not above a mile
by the foot-way across the park from Woodington;
and as her road to the house was through this very
avenue, and the twilight just gone, she came upon
him unavoidably, before either could recognize the
other.
Tremaine’s respect for her, as an attached old do-
mestic, never allowed of these meetings without a
word of notice or kindness ; which, indeed, was the
cause of much of that kindness which she bore for
him in return.
“ You have had a pleasant walk,” said Tremaine,
u and from your road, perhaps from Evelyn Hall ?”
Strange ! dear and delightful association of ideas,
that can give such a charm to words, and affect dif-
ferent people with such different sensations ! To
the greater part of mankind the two little words
<c Evelyn Hall” gave only the notion of an old
house. To those in the immediate neighbourhood,
it perhaps, but not always, conveyed the image of
its master ; which image consisted only of a very
zealous, active, clergyman and magistrate, who
preached every Sunday at church, and was the
o 5
298
TREMAINE.
terror of all the rogues and vagabonds within ten
miles of him.
To Tremaine it gave far other thoughts. For
though the notion of its master might not be alto-
gether suppressed, it was almost lost in the overpower-
ing imagery that always now accompanied the idea
of its mistress ; so that the words u Evelyn Hall”
could never be uttered by himself, or a friend, or
even a servant delivering a message, but a long
train of fancy, all of it sweet to his feelings, imme-
diately started up, and clung round those two little
words in a manner to charm him. In short, the
loves and graces, as well as the most perfect good-
ness and good sense, seemed to dwell there ; and
their dwelling, be sure, was the fairest bosom in the
world. ’Twas of these then he always thought,
whenever the place was now mentioned.
“ You have had a pleasant walk, Watson,” said
Tremaine, 66 and probably from Evelyn Hall?”
(( Only part of the way, Sir,” replied Watson.
u I heard voices at the end of the avenue ; was
any body with you ?”
u Only Mr. Dupuis, Sir, and Mr. Martin, Lord
St. Clair’s valet.”
cc Lord St. Clair! is he in the country?”
w He came this morning, and and there is
the strangest report ” said Watson.
“ Of what?”
“ Has not your honour heard ?”
“ How should I ?”
“I thought,” replied Watson, hesitatingly, yet
TREMAINE.
299
encouraged by this disposition to let her talk
<e I thought from your honour’s intimacy with
Doctor and Miss Evelyn — ”
c6 Good God !” exclaimed Tremaine, with pal-
pable eagerness, and it must be confessed, most un-
fashionably, if not unaccountably, off his guard,
considering to whom it was he was speaking —
C( Good God ! what can you mean ?”
Mrs. Watson was not the most penetrating
person in the world ; but a woman who had been less
so might have made, or thought she had made, a
great discovery as to her object, by the mode in
which her master uttered this exclamation.
I say as to her object ; because there were a hundred
different senses in which this very common exclama-
tion might have been taken. It might have been cu-
riosity ; — indeed, ninety-nine out of a hundred would
have set it down to that account. It might have
been surprise, or fear, or concern, or the mere or-
dinary interest of a friend, or the selfish interest on
what might affect one’s own situation as a neighbour.
It might also, it must be confessed, be the sensibility
of a lover; and so Mrs. Watson construed it, for so
she wished it to be.
“ Good God!” exclaimed Tremaine, u what can
you mean?”
“ Nay, Sir, nothing I believe is settled.”
u Settled! who? what? where? — tell me this
instant.”
“ I thought your honour might have known,”
answered the straight-forward domestic, “ that my
300
TREMAINE.
Lord was coming a courting like, as one may say r
to Miss Evelyn.”
A thunderbolt at his feet could not have struck
Tremaine with more surprise, or created more alarm
than this sudden communication, the ground for
which he did not at all think it necessary to exa-
mine, but immediately set it all down as true.
I remember in a former chapter I asked the reader
if ever he had been in love. If he has, it will not be
necessary to explain this ; if not, I will not throw
away my time by endeavouring to explain it to a,
critic who would be as invulnerable as Mr. Ser-
geant B — .
Every body knew the late Mr. Sergeant B — . He
had the best powers of criticism that the most exact
and accurate vision could confer. He never deviated
from his path, never looked to the right or left. If
then he sometimes disported himself in the .sweet
fields of fancy, it was always under the correction of
this sound and sober judgment. Once he was
engaged with a young gentleman of rather warmer
feelings, but, as it will appear, much less penetration
than the sergeant, on the merits of Richardson and
Clarissa Harlow.
u He was an ignorant man,” said the sergeant.
u Surely, Sir,” replied the young gentleman, (who
I concldde was one of his pupils,) “ he understood
the human heart, and its most engaging as well as
powerful passion, love ; and no where are the varie-
ties and changeful feelings of that passion so accu-
rately described as in Clarissa.”
TREMAINE. SOI
C£ Accuracy !” said the sergeant ; a foolish boy ! do
you remember her will?”
u Not particularly.”
cc I thought so ; go read it again, and you will
find that not one of the uses or trusts therein men-
tioned can be supported : one would suppose he had
never seen a conveyance in all his life !”
Now the sergeant B — ’s who read this may probably
think the credulity described in Tremaine extremely
unnatural, and may wonder, may even throw aside
the book, because a man of his age and experience
should have known no better than to believe at once
this gossip of his housekeeper, without making a
word of inquiry as to whether or not it had any
foundation.
To rescue him and myself from this imputation, I
must inform these critics, whoever they may be, that
probably he did not inquire for proof, because proof
was immediately tendered without being asked for ;
though I fear it will not much mend the matter,
when it is stated what sort of proof this was. But it
is my business to tell a story, not to make one.
ct Mr. Martin and Mrs. Winter say it is all true,”
pursued Watson.
“ True !” exclaimed her perturbed master.
“ Then farewell ” but recollecting whom he was
speaking to, he recovered himself.
tc Good night to you, Watson,” said he ; which
was a civil way of dismissing her ; and he instantly
bent his own steps towards Evelyn’s house.
It was now the time that Milton talks of —
302
TREMAINE.
u By then the chewing flocks
« Had ta’en their supper on the sav’ry herb,
“ Of knot-grass dew besprent.”
The freshness of the grass and the mild evening
air struck on his sense, as he hurried through the
park ; and his deer, who were at their night browze,
scarcely fled at his approach.
“ These are the scents and sights she loves,” said
Tremaine to himself ; “ but if she marry St. Clair, she
will not have them to love. She will be buried in
London, or, at most, at Brighton, all the year ; and
the only country she’ll know will be the road be-
tween them.
“ Is it possible it can be !” continued he, hurrying
his steps. “ What a fool, not to ask Watson the na-
ture of her authority !” he stopt.
“ And yet it is very possible,” added he, proceed-
ing. “ He is young, handsome, noble, and rich, and
so far he is made for her.”
The thought preyed upon him, and he quickened
his pace till he almost ran.
“But what is he else?” continued Tremaine;
and he stopt again, clasping his hands.
“Has he any one of her tastes? any one of her
opinions ? has he any tastes or any opinions ? can he
value or even understand her mind ? can he give her
a heart equal to her’s ? has he any heart to give ? No !
she may not be made for — for me,” said Tremaine,
“ but was she made for him /”
Thus raved Tremaine (for it was raving); and
the end of this soliloquy brought him within half a
TREMAINE.
303
mile of the spot which contained the subject of it.
How different his present musing from that which
had absorbed the last hours ! Of all the qualities
that belong to the mind, surely its versatility is the
most remarkable. The immortality of the soul, the
interference of Providence, the law, and the pro-
phets, all were forgotten in an instant, and his whole
heart, mind, and memory, were fixed, absolutely ri-
veted, upon one little being, in comparison with whom
all that was, or had ever been in the world, seemed
nothing.
In this frame of thought he arrived at the end of
that long walk of elms which we have described as
leading up to Evelyn’s house, before he had scarcely
asked himself why he had proceeded thither.
It was time at least to do so ; for what he had to
say, or how to announce himself when he arrived, he
had by no means settled.
“ As they have not mentioned it to me themselves,
it will be thought impertinent to come at this late
hour, or indeed at any hour,” said Tremaine, “to
force a confidence which is evidently premature.
Besides, am I prepared — have I any right to expect,
or believe — can I even hope, if it is even not too late !
These reflections again arrested his progress, and
he threw himself upon one of Evelyn’s seats, whence
he could observe the lights which gleamed from
almost all the windows of the house not yet closed
for the night, and which, though only carried by the
servants traversing the different rooms in their usual
304
TREMAINE.
household occupations, created ten thousand fancies
to his possessed imagination, the least of which was
that St. Clair and his mother were already there,
perhaps to remain the night. In the midst of the me-
lancholy and brooding caused by this, a spaniel
which belonged to Georgina, and of which she was
very fond, (feeding it herself, and making it the constant
companion of her walks,) strayed from the house,
night-hunting, and coming near Tremaine, soon
made him out. He was indeed himself very fond of
this little animal, delighting to stroke and caress her ;
for which Georgina had more than once repaid him
with a look worth a kingdom.
u Good Heavens !” cried Tremaine — u Flora !”
The dog instantly recognizing his voice, leaped
on his knees, wagging her tail with every demonstra-
tion of joy ; and upon being patted on his head,
licked his hand, and searching for the bend of his
arm, (a trick she was particularly fond of,) placed
her head in it, and seemed to compose herself to rest.
This little incident, in his then disposition of
mind, totally unmanned our metaphysician and man
of refinement ; and let Lady Katherine or Lady
Georgina laugh at him as they please, his eyes were
actually suffused with what at another time would
have made him heartily ashamed.
Reader, I again ask, was’t thou ever in love ?
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305
CHAP. XXXIII.
IRRESOLUTION.
** What man art thou, that thus hescreen’d in night,
( * So stumblest on my counsel ?”
SHAKSPEARE.
Whether the reader of this history has been in
love or not, he will readily admit that, at the end of
the last chapter, we left Mr. Tremaine in a very fair
way of emulating any hero of romance on record.
And yet he was found the next morning in his own
bed !
The truth is, he and the dog remained in the same
position we have described for full half an hour;
during which the former resolved many plans and
resolutions. He would go in and ask an audience
of Evelyn, — perhaps of his daughter herself. He
would at least ask if the news he had heard were
true. He would perhaps, as a mere friend, caution
Georgina not to throw away her fine mind and natu-
ral tastes upon a man whom it would be his duty, in
the aforesaid character of friend, to represent to her
as what he was — originally, a man of much preten-
sion, but dwindled down into a good-natured dandy.
Perhaps he would throw himself at her feet, and ask
306
TREMAINE.
if the eternal love and admiration of a heart fully ca-
pable of appreciating her’s, and twenty thousand a
year to boot, could make up for twenty years difference
in age. No ; he would not mention this last ; for it
would be to wrong, it would be treason against his
dear Georgina, to suppose she could be influenced
by such a thing.
Besides, it would wrong his own pride in its very
tenderest point.
He blushed at having for the single instant it
flashed across him entertained so grovelling a
thought.
But pray a truce with your perhaps, and be good
enough to let us know what Mr. Tremaine did do in
the emergency in which you left him ? — Alas ! for
dear romance — He got quietly up from his seat,
and walked home again.
In fact, the poor gentleman was disturbed in his
council of plans, before he had time to decide upon
any one of them ; for the house being now shut up
for the night, and Georgina missing her dog, the
servants were sent in quest of her ; and a footman
coming up the walk calling Flora, the little animal,
being herself wholly free from the passion that agi-
tated Tremaine, and at the same time not at all dis-
posed to pass the night under a tree, when there was
her own comfortable basket in Georgina’s dressing-
room, courting her repose, sprang from his arms at
the sound of the footman’s voice, and in a few mi-
nutes gave herself up to the care of Mrs. Margaret.
TREMAINE.
307
Tremaine being thus interrupted before he had
time to come to a decision upon any of his plans,
and being moreover really apprehensive of the strange
appearance it would have, should he be discovered at
that time of night so close to his friend’s house, he,
as I said before, very quietly got up and walked
home; as any tolerably prudent man would have
done, under similar circumstances.
On his return lie found the house in some wonder
at his absence. The hall was full of lights, the great
door open, and up and down the broad walk before
it appeared the figures of the two coadjutors in do-
mestic power, the authors of all his perturbation,
dame Watson and the respectable Dupuis.
The good woman was in effect in real anxiety
about her master, especially as she had sagacity
enough to have observed that the news she had told
him had been received with any thing but compo-
sure, and as the great clock had now long struck
midnight, fears of accident, if not of something
worse, began to haunt her imagination ; and as she
really loved her master, her perturbation was un-
feigned.
Dupuis, who loved him too, (about as much as a
minister, who by means of a party has forced himself
into power against inclination, loves the person of his
king,) had played with the poor woman’s fears to his
own no small amusement, and indeed self-admiration;
for every surmise on his master’s absence, in which
he was not at all sparing, had all the effect he could
propose or wish upon the housekeeper’s fears.
308
TREMAINE.
“ He in a fit,” said Dupuis ; “ he tumble down de
cascade ! he drown himself for love ! he go kill
de milord in de duel !”
The climax was more than she could bear, and the
well-intentioned housekeeper was really in agony,
when her master appeared.
u Oh, Sir,” she exclaimed, ct you have so fright-
ened us ! I am so glad to see you safe !”
66 I frightened out of my wits,” cried Dupuis.
cc At what ?” said Tremaine, abruptly ; then de-
siring Watson to bring one of the lamps into the
dining-room, he executed the resolve he had made on
his way home, to question her as to the authority of
her report ; a conduct which our readers may wonder
he had not adopted long before.
Being now then rather more collected, and inter-
ested in a very keen cross-examination, and withal
having no very skilful person to deal with in the art
of disguising truth, (to which we always desire to add
neither was she inclined,) he soon found that in effect
he had very little reason to be sure that a proposal
on the part of Lord St. Clair was ever resolved upon ;
still less that it had been made ; least of all that it
had been accepted.
And yet, for all this, Tremaine felt by no means
safe.
TREMAINE.
309
CHAP. XXXIV.
A DOWAGER.
“ But marriage is a matter of more worth
“ Than to be dealt in by attorneyship.
SHAKSPEARK.
The history of the thing was this ; only part of
which, however, was known to Watson herself.
Old Lady St. Clair, who was a very harmless,
affable, easy woman, had passed the last seven years
of her widowhood much abstracted from the world ;
and the last year of it, from infirmity, almost entirely
in the society of Madame Deville, — who united in
herself the capacities of companion and waiting gen-
tlewoman. It was on this account perhaps that her
lady was in the habit, as most such old ladies are,
(and as poor human nature sometimes requires from
us) of unburthening herself of her thoughts, whatever
they might be, to the said Madame Deville, or in-
deed to any one near her whom she might think a
friend. A visit from her son, once or twice in a year,
for a week or so at a time, and a very few periodical
visits from a few scattered dowagers like herself, who
inhabited a circle of some eight or ten miles in dia-
meter, gave her the only chances she had of seeing
310
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any one out of the precincts of her own domain.
Now and then indeed she was enlivened by Georgina,
whom she loved, and her father, who was her kins-
man, and often her adviser. But for the rest, Ma-
dame Deville was the sole depository of her confi-
dence, such as it was. This and novel reading,
washing her china, polishing India cabinets, and
now and then a course over her garden in a bath
chair, with Deville by her side, formed her life ; not
an unhappy one, for she had no hankering beyond it.
In this seclusion she cultivated the only worldly
plan she had left, that of her son’s marriage : and it
must be confessed, a person of far greater means and
opportunities might have fallen on a worse scheme
for him than she did, when she fixed her choice,
could it be realized, upon Georgina.
Of course Deville was her confidant in this, as in
every thing else ; and every visit made by Georgina,
by developing something new to love, only confirmed
the wishes of the good old lady. Many were the
letters she wrote, or rather dictated on it, to her son,
(for her infirmity often made that task devolve upon
Deville), in which the worldly advantages of the
match were not forgotten. And to say truth, the
whole proposal was not thrown away ; for the young
peer, besides having no indisposition to either Geor-
gina’s person or fortune, was in a very eminent degree
tired of himself.
Of this the following letter may be an illustra-
tion.
TREMAINE, 311
White’s, November 20th, 1814.
Dear Mother,
I received all your six last letters on the old sub-
ject ; but what with shooting, politics, and a number
of other odd things, I had no time to answer them*
All I can say is, I have no objection to be married,
for I assure you I have no affair on my hands, and
assure you I have long been heartily tired of Pauline.
But you know it is cursedly troublesome, besides
being quizzical, to go what is called a courting ; and
as I told Lady Gertrude, I'd be hanged if I would
dance after her any more, and I really think Miss
Evelyn, with a winter in town, might do. I’ve no
objection to your making up the match for me if you
can. But I really cannot come myself, as I really
am engaged to go to Melton to hunt, so believe me
Your affectionate son,
St. Clair.
P. S. Mrs. Neville writes word that Tremaine is
always at the Doctors, and that there was no truth
that he was married to the French girl. As he is a
devilish odd fellow at flirtation, though so old, and
i3 at any rate devilish rich, you had better take care
of him. Now don’t say any more. I don’t attend to
things, as I give you this caution.
Whether the good dowager was most pleased or
displeased with this letter, is uncertain. She was
certainly pleased with the carte blanche it gave her:
but in the end she informed her son that Miss Eve-
312
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lyn was not a girl to be had for asking by a third
person, and that it was absolutely necessary, to ensure
success, that he should come hims'elf.
All this passed under the notice, and indeed
through the hands of Deville, who in fact was both
zealous and sincere in her exertions to second her old
lady’s design ; for she was actuated by a very great
sense of duty and attachment to her patroness, and
not in the least (as she most strenuously asserted her-
self,) by a conditional promise of being remembered
to double the amount of a legacy which she knew
stood at present against her name in that lady’s will.
To prove her attachment however to her mistress,
(we will say nothing about the legacy,) and wanting
assistance in other quarters, she opened a corres-
pondence with Mr. Martin, to give her regular intel-
lence of the young lord’s feelings and conduct as to
others, as far as he could discover them, and moreover,
as she shrewdly suspected that Mr. Tremaine’s inti-
macy at Evelyn Hall might at all events affect the case,
Mr. Martin was also instructed to sound Monsieur
Dupuis upon this occasion. One link was still far-
ther wanting, — namely, a proper confidant at Evelyn
Hall; and as among the males there, there were
none, according to Mr. Martin, but cloddies, Mrs.
Margaret was the only person that could be looked
to, and she could only be got at through Mrs.
Watson. Hence the whole concatenation.
It should be added that Mr, Martin, who had
been flattered by Deville with promises very agree-
TREMAINE.
313
able to his interest in case of success, on being intro-
duced to Mrs. Winter, had let fall hints of very great
things of the same nature, in the event of her being
able to contribute to that success, by either informa-
tion or influence, in regard to Georgina.
And thus this whole set of understrappers, with the
exception of Watson, were engaged from interest as
well as curiosity, in this projected match. The in-
terest of Deville sprang entirely from the attachment
she felt towards her patroness. This at least was
her own account of the matter : and who so likely to
be acquainted with the truth in such a case ? — As
to Mr. Martin’s, that was, as we have seen, directly
of a pecuniary nature. That of Mrs. Margaret
was not so clear, but it is thought she was actuated
by nothing short of the hope jf being set at the
head of the whole household of the Viscountess
St. Clair. And as for Monsieur Dupuis, though
he was decidedly of opinion that his master, un des
plus grands hommes de l’etat, would degrade him-
self by marrying any thing short of the daughter of
a Duke, he engaged in the affair from pure love of
intrigue alone.
Watson of course could give little of all these
motives to Tremaine ; and we have merely revealed
them to the reader now, because it seems a more
proper place than any other in this history. But the
facts, with such glosses as they had received in pass-
ing from one to the other, Watson willingly disclosed
in answer to Tremaine’s questions ; who, after all,
VOL. II. p
314
TREMAINE.
gathered thus far and no farther, — that Lady St.
Clair and her son were desirous of the alliance,
could it be brought about. And though as far
as the opinions of all these good gentlemen and
ladies went, not only had the match been proposed,
but approved, still it amounted to opinion merely.
Nevertheless, it kept Tremaine awake the whole
night; and he left his bed at early morning, resolved
to seek out Georgina and her father immediately,
and at least open the subject, to whatever conclusion
it might lead.
Thus have we accounted, in the most satisfactory
manner, for that early meeting of Tremaine and
Georgina in the garden at Evelyn Hall, which has
been recorded in the twenty-ninth chapter of this
eventful history.
CHAP. XXXV.
IN WHICH THE READER WILL PROBABLY BE
DISAPPOINTED.
“ In her youth
“ There is a prone and speechless dialect,
“ Such as moves men. Besides, she hath a prosperous art,
“ When she will play with reason and discourse,
“ And well she can persuade.”
SHAXSPEARE.
1 never could make out what it was that detained
the Doctor so long when Tremaine called upon him
TREMAINE.
315
thus early in the morning, so that he had to seek his
young hostess, because there was no host to receive
him. It is certain he did not feel sorely mortified at
the task put upon him, or, rather, which he had put
upon himself, of seeking the Doctor in the garden,
taking the chance of what he should find there
besides.
And if he found there the fairest flower of that
garden, in the person of its mistress; the flower
which in all the world he most sought for, and most
wished to wear, breathing all its sweets, and seem-
ingly in the happiest state for his purpose — if he
did this, — why Mr. Tremaine, as many a hero of
romance had been before him, was a very fortunate
man.
Georgina complimented him upon his early rising,
and would have rallied him upon his improvement
in this point, but that rallying him just then upon
any thing was the farthest from her thoughts. She
had besides been so little accustomed to be alone
with him, that her first impulse was to look around
for her father, and her next to ask Tremaine whether
he had seen him, and where he had left him ?
To her surprise she found that he was seeking him
in that very walk, of which, from being newly made,
and the production of their united taste, he knew
they were very fond.
It had indeed every thing to delight and to sooth
every faculty and feeling of the mind, and invited to
contemplation as much as it courted the senses. It
p2
316
TREMAINE.
was what is called a green walk, shaven so close and
so frequently, that no velvet was softer to the feet.
It was perfectly straight, so that a thoughtful person
might pace up and down, indulging whatever reverie
he might be in, without danger of being interrupted
by a false step. It was sheltered from observation on
the garden side, by a long row of espaliers of the
finest fruit, while on the other it was bounded by a
retired mead, which no profane person ever visited.
From this it was only divided by a quickset hedge,
kept very trim, but purposely low, in order to open
the full view of the park and towers of Woodington.
It was at present in a perfect blaze of glory with
roses, Indian pinks, convolvolus, and poppy, inter-
spersed every where with a profusion of mignionette.
At one end was a summer-house, in which Evelyn
delighted to take his evening tea ; at the other, sepa-
rated by a rustic gate, was the rookery, which has
already been honourably mentioned. The sun was
now high, and to avoid the glare of his beams,
Georgina and her companion entered the summer-
house.
And here, reader, no doubt thou expectest that
declaration, and that acceptance of love, which in
closing this history would put an end to thy trouble,
and to mine at once.
But in point of fact, though Tremaine rose from
his bed with great courage, and was resolved to put
the report about Lord St. Clair, and perhaps even
his own fate, out of doubt, that very morning, and
TREMAINE.
317
though no recess that ever lover sought for a decla-
tion, (the old gentleman away, the young lady alone,
and full of kind thoughts of him) presented so fair an
opportunity to resolution, or even to bashfulness.
Notwithstanding all this, my determination to tell
only what I know obliges me to add, that both the
gentleman and the lady, almost immediately on their
entering the above-named summer-house, fell into
neither more nor less than a dissertation on the
delight and uses of a garden !
Whether it was that Tremaine thought it most
prudent to introduce the chief topic of his visit to
Evelyn alone ; or that Georgina, still full of her
morning thoughts, wished to make her garden sub-
ject a vehicle for other sentiments, in which she
hoped rather than expected Tremaine would agree
with her; — all this is more than we can decide upon,
we shall therefore proceed to our more humble but
not less useful task, of merely reporting what we have
learned.
66 Exclusive of its pleasantness to the sense,” said
Georgina, cc there is this advantage attending a gar-
den, that every walk in it may be made sacred to
some one or other of our happy recollections. In
one you have cultivated the flowers that adorn and
perfume it ; in another you have made acquaintance,
perhaps for the first time, with some picture or secret
of nature ; in a third, you may have made acquaint-
ance with yourself ; in another again, you may have
enjoyed the conversation of the friend you love best.”
p 3
318
TREMAINE.
oil ! that I were that friend ! thought Tre-
maine.
“ But this even is not the least,” added Georgina
hesitatingly.
cc I so delight to hear you,” said Tremaine, seeing
her pause, “ that I cannot help begging you to pro-
ceed.”
The word delight, on which Tremaine laid a pe-
culiar emphasis, called a slight blush into her cheek.
She went on, however, with a little hesitation —
“ Perhaps I am venturing upon things of too grave a
nature, and which Mr. Tremaine may blame as
affected, or at least as not belonging to my age.”
“ It is the very last thing that can be attributed to
you,” exclaimed Tremaine.
Georgina was touched with the air of respect with
which this was uttered ; she became pensive, and for
a moment was without reply. Recovering herself,
she went on.
“ What I meant to observe,” said she, “ was, that
the secrets of nature are not those alone with which
a garden brings us acquainted ; for in a garden we
have the best opportunities of getting acquainted
with ourselves. It is so retired,” continued Geor-
gina.
“More so than the closet?”
t( Perhaps not ; but more soothing ; more power-
ful in opening the heart to itself.”
66 1 should like to hear you explain this,” said
Tremaine, u for you seem to speak from experience.”
TREMAINE. 319
“ I do indeed,” replied Georgina, ee and my
father — ”
cc Remember,” interrupted Tremaine, “I want
your own sentiments, not papa’s. Yet do not think
me impertinent.”
ce That is the last thing any body can think of Mr.
Tremaine.”
<£ If you knew how very much I dislike that for-
mality of title from my friend’s daughter, you would
not use it. Am I not your father’s brother? His
scholar?” and he paused as if embarrassed with his
recollections.
u I wish you were his scholar,” said Georgina,
gravely.
66 I would rather be your’s,” replied he, leading her
back to the subject. u You were about to tell me
the effects of a garden in bringing you acquainted
with yourself.”
u I meant,” said Georgina, u that the solitude of a
garden is no place for concealment. Every thing in
the face of nature is so open, that we are afraid not to
be so ourselves. The flowers and blossoms, the fresh
earth, the air, the birds, all seem to look upon us
with kindness. If 1 may so say, Nature herself is
candid, and will not let us be otherwise.”
u A pretty thought,” said Tremaine, u but what
use do you make of it?”
6C It puts one upon self-examination,” replied
Georgina : c( we task our hearts, and dispositions, our
errors, and faulty thoughts.”
p 4
320
TREMAINE.
“ Faulty thoughts in you !” exclaimed Tremaine.
“ Oh yes ! a thousand ; and when I find them too
strong to bear, I fly to such a walk as this, and out
they all come.”
“ What a charming confessional !” observed Tre-
maine; “ but where is the confessor ?”
“ He is every where,” said Georgina, looking up
and around her with reverence. Tremaine sighed,
and Georgina knew, or thought she knew, the cause
of that sigh.
Her father’s doubts about him, her own fears, and
the resolutions of both should those doubts and fears
not be done away w ith, all flashed across her, w ith
the quickness of thought. It was a moment of pain,
not at all lessened by the feeling that Tremaine never
looked so interesting, or seemed so attentive, so par-
ticular, so occupied about herself.
“ Seriously,” said Tremaine, “ is it possible so
pure, so innocent a creature, can have ever had occa-
sion to task her heart, and correct her disposition ?”
“You are not my confessor,” replied she play-
fully ; “ but I have no scruple to own that in these
walks I have attempted to correct what was wrong
in me, and to .” Here she again stopped, from
a compound feeling that she might be going beyond
her strength, or what was worse, that her companion
might think her affectedly sententious.
“ To do what, my dear Miss Evelyn ?” asked Tre-
maine.
“ To implore assistance of Him, in whose Provi-
TREMAINE.
321
dence — it pains, it distresses me ,” she here
breathed quick, fluttered, and grew absolutely con-
fused.
“ Good God !” exclaimed Tremaine, “ what can
thus agitate you ?”
tc I will disguise nothing from so kind a friend,”
replied Georgina recovering herself.
u What I meant was that it pained me, as it does
beyond all description, — if you will forgive me for
saying this — ”
u Forgive you, Georgina! alas! that such an
angel should interest herself-— if she does interest her-
self,” added he, thoughtfully.
u We are all interested,” returned Georgina,
u more perhaps than you imagine ; for your neigh-
bours would be far happier in thinking Woodington
was inhabited again, if Mr. Tremaine agreed with
us more on certain points than he does.”
Tremaine was silent, but his gestures became agi-
tated to a perceptible degree.
<c You have thegoodness of heaven,” he exclaimed ;
and Georgina beginning to be alarmed at the bold-
ness she had ventured upon, observed with a retiring
sort of manner, mixed however with sweetness,
only still more sweet from the contrast which it
formed with her retenue, “ Mr. Tremaine will I hope
remember, that if I am too unreserved in venturing
upon these thoughts, and in particular upon this
subject, it is my father who has encouraged me
so much to open myself. And remember too — ”
p 5
322
TREMAINE.
and she here looked down, and with a softened voice,
added, “ it is my father’s friend with whom I am
conversing.”
Her gloveless hand here began to be affected with
a violent disposition to twirl a rose she had held in
it till now ; and she did twirl and twirl, till it fell all
to pieces.
Tremaine looked at her countenance, and then at
her hand, and then at her countenance again. It
seemed the most modest, ingenuous, meaning coun-
tenance he had ever beheld, — and as for the hand, it
was the whitest, smallest, softest, most taper, most
like a lady’s of the best blood in the kingdom (as
indeed her’s was) of all hands he had ever seen.
“ And am I only your father's friend ?” said Tre-
maine, laying much stress on the word.
“ Oh ! yes, you are too kind not to be the friend
of all who belong to him.”
“ You believe me then your’s, Georgina ?”
“Yes! indeed! and in the encouragement you
give me to say what I think without reserve, I could
almost fancy you my father.”
Tremaine did not like the comparison.
“ For you are as like him in kindness,” added
Georgina, “ as you are unlike him in almost every
thing else.”
Tremaine revived.
Now, though Georgina might, and in fact did
mean to apply this, among a great many other dif-
ferences of a personal nature, to the almost constant
TREMAINE.
323
difference of opinion between her father and Tre-
maine, even less vanity than his, particularly with
his present wishes always uppermost, might have left,
as he did, the mental differences quite out of the
question. In truth there was a great opening for
him. He might translate Georgina’s difference a
thousand ways. The Doctor’s plain figure and
dress ; his brisk voice and language ; his unceremo-
nious manner, all very well for a father, but not at
all suited, as Tremaine thought, to a lover — then
again, many of the Doctor’s old-fashioned tastes;
his love of country business, and what Tremaine
thought the drudgeries of his life ; all this he ima-
gined it no disadvantage to be unlike. His refine-
ment began to take possession of him, and in the
quick glance of his thought, perhaps with a vanity
not unpardonable, considering the circumstances, he
was not sorry to believe that the application to him
of the word father , by Georgina, would not hold for
a moment.
“ I think,” said he, u I know not why — my feel-
ing is quite undefined about it,” and he stopt.
“And what does Mr. Tremaine think?” asked
Georgina, turning her eyes full upon him.
The inquiry and the look together were more
than he could bear. There was a softness in her
whole countenance, yet so full of modesty, so inno-
cent, yet so conscious, and her consciousness, like
Tremaine’s, so undefined even to herself, that the
conversation stopt from sheer want of power in the
parties to carry it on.
324
TREMAINE.
tc I think,” said Tremaine at last, a and yet my
difference in age tells me it is ridiculous, as well as
presumptuous, and I cannot sufficiently — ” Here
he again paused, and even stammered. But for
this pause there was now a reason, even if his own
difficulty had not occasioned it ; for Georgina’s
face, first turning very pale, became suddenly crim-
son ; it was indeed an entire suffusion of blushes ;
her heart seemed to beat as if it would have broke
through her stays ; her eyes turned any where but
towards him, and her respiration became impeded.
u Good God !” said Tremaine, 66 what can have
affected you ? I fear you are not well.”
<( It is only the heat,” said Georgina: C( the morn-
ing is close ; more air will revive me,” and she rose
to quit the summer-house. Tremaine with some
surprise, and no small concern, rose also to attend her.
u I wonder if my father is returned,” continued
Georgina, taking first one walk, then another, with
a very hurried pace, then turning into an alley that
led to the house, and moving fast towards it.
Now let those who understand a young lady’s
heart better than I do, even the most innocent,
natural, unaffected heart in the world, let those I
say explain this movement of this plain-minded girl,
this guileless opposite to all coquetterie. Or is there
indeed a little tinge of coquetterie so infused and
mixed up in the very elements of the sex, (with a
view no doubt to interest and enchain us still more,
by the little agreeable uncertainties that belong to
it,) that if there were sexes in heaven, the female
TREMAINE*
325
angels themselves would perhaps not be without it ?
But no ! that is not it ; for there was not the
smallest spark of it in the whole composition of
Georgina.
And yet here was an opportunity, real or suppo-
sed, (and it makes no difference which) for an expla-
nation of sentiments, her uncertainty about which
had formed part of her uneasiness. That the man-
ner and language of Tremaine had created an ex-
pectation of something critical to her present state of
feeling cannot be denied. Her father had openly
expressed his wish that their present situation
should be put an end to, one way or the other ; it
was also her own most serious desire ; and yet here,
where the occasion had seemed actually to have
arisen, and a fair hearing to be the only thing want-
ing, the hearing was avoided, and to seek her father
was made a pretext for leaving the only man in the
world she admired, in the moment when his conver-
sation seemed to have grown the most critical to her
happiness.
Believe it who will of those who study the sex only
in London, or if indeed in woods and shades, the
shades of Kensington and Hyde Park, believe it who
will of those who follow the Lady Gertrudes of the
day, in the throng of St. James’s, — the real impulse
of Georgina was occasioned by neither more nor less
than that timid delicacy, combined with that serious
goodness which, with all her sprightliness, were the
leading traits, and the charm of her character. The
TREMAINE.
most opposite to vanity in the world, she could not
disguise from herself the particularity of Tremaine’s
manner to her; while her own frank heart told her
that it was a manner far from unpleasing; nay, cer-
tain points explained, the manner that most delighted
her. On the other hand an explanation of those
points was absolutely necessary to her principles and
her promises, before a declaration of the most devoted
attachment on the part of Tremaine could be even
grateful to her.
In a word, it was those principles and promises
which had occupied her heart so entirely during the
morning, that had caught the alarm. She could not
Hatter herself that Tremaine’s opinions, if so wrong
as her father had represented them, could have
become suddenly right ; and she dreaded lest the
declarations to which his last words seemed to be
leading, should force her to decide in a manner
the most bitter to her own heart which she could
possibly conceive.
Yet did those words excite all her curiosity, her
interest, her most powerful feelings, and hence her
tremor, her struggle, and ultimate flight.
Tremaine, at first alarmed, and afterwards puzzled,
made every effort to understand her. He entreated
her to take his arm, but the still predominant fear of
her mind made her avoid it, till at length approach-
ing the house, she flew from him, and sought her
chamber, leaving him confounded.
The absence of the Doctor still continuing, his
TREMAINE.
327
first impulse, in which no doubt there was an infu-
sion of the pride which always more or less belonged
to his character, was to return home, and leave
capricious ladies to themselves. But Georgina de-
served better of him ; and contrary to all that he
would formerly have done in the same situation, he
resolved to await an explanation which he was sure
she could satisfactorily give of her conduct ; in all
which we must at least allow he shewed great signs
of an improved character.
But alas ! was it satisfactorily to explain, that she
had listened to Lord St. Clair, and therefore could
not listen to him ? for so now his fears began to inter-
pret the matter. All farther surmise however was
for the present forbidden by the approach of Evelyn
himself, inviting him to the breakfast-room, calling
Georgina at the same time, and declaring he was
almost famished by a ride to Mount St. Clair.
44 What could take you there so early ?” asked
Tremaine, with some emotion.
44 My lady cousin sent for me to come as early as I
could,” replied Evelyn ; 44 and as the morning air is
my delight, I took her at her word, and was there by
eight o’clock. Neither my lady cousin, nor my lord,
were however stirring, and though my lord sent word
he would be with me in a moment, yet as I knew
what a dandy’s moment was, especially at a toilette,
I thought it best to tell him to follow me , and so came
home again, though, for the sake of the morning, by
a round-about way.”
m
TREMAINE.
Not proceeding with the subject, Tremaine thought
it might be intrusive to question him farther, and
the entrance of Georgina restored, but still a
little conscious, and busying herself with great ac-
tivity about the breakfast things, diverted him then
from farther enquiries. The visit however to Mount
St. Clair gave him a pang from which he could not
recover, and Evelyn perceived, and perhaps would
have noted his distraction, if Georgina herself had
not attracted his raillery by fifty mistakes at the table,
one of which was to break a china cup, for which she
would have been well scolded by her father, but that
at the same time she scalded her pretty fingers, and
suffered so much greater an accident as to turn all
his rage into concern.
CHAP. XXXVI.
A MISHAP.
“ For Imogen’s dear life take mine,
“ And though 'tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life.”
SHAKSPEARE.
This accident was neither, more nor less, than
that in endeavouring to save the cup, she entangled
her reticule, which she had not laid aside, in the
TREMAINE.
329
foot of the urn, and in withdrawing the one the
other was overset, and would have emptied its
scalding contents, red hot iron and all, into her lap,
had not Tremaine interposed his hands, arms, and
almost his whole body, to save her from the danger.
By consequence he received all the damage himself,
which was in fact not a little ; for exclusive of a
good scalding through his cloaths, the iron seared
the entire skin of one of his hands, in snatching it
from her dress, with which it had already come in
contact, and instantly set it on fire, though it was as
instantly extinguished by her active protector.
As this occasioned a real disaster to our hero,
who was in effect both scalded and burned to a
considerable degree, it became an event. The
Doctor was seriously distressed, and Georgina,
exclusive of her gratitude from being saved from a
cruel and dangerous accident, was so affected at his
evident suffering, as well as the proof it gave of his
eager desire to save her, that after venting a little
shriek, she sank into her chair, and burst into tears.
Every one of these tears was delicious to the
heart of Tremaine. His pain was forgotten ; he
would have suffered it twenty times over ; nay he
would have been scalded and burned in his whole
body, instead of his hands and arms, to have pur-
chased the rich reward, the voluptuous pleasure of
one of these tears.
Evelyn, who knew a burn was a very bad thing
for the body, whatever mental consolations attended
330
TREMAINE.
it, without staying to thank him for saving his dear
Georgy, ran out of the room, in search of vinegar,
with which he returned unfortunately too soon for
this history to record the soft, tender, and grateful
things, which would have been uttered, had the
Doctor not found the vinegar, before either of the
other parties had found their tongues.
Georgina indeed could not speak for many mi-
nutes, but she looked her thanks in a manner to
surpass all the words she could have used, which
indeed were very few. Evelyn, after ringing for
Mrs. Margaret, and being actively employed in
directing a bath for Tremaine’s hand, said some-
thing about the eternal obligation both himself and
daughter were under to him ; but Tremaine dis-
claimed all thanks, assuring him, and looking at
Georgina with an eye sparkling with pleasure at her
safety, that if his blood instead of his skin had been
the price of saving her from danger, he would wil-
lingly have shed it.
66 I believe you,” said Evelyn, u and Georgy does
too, only I see she is too much overcome to tell you
so.”
In fact, Georgina was making sad work of it, en-
deavouring with her maid to wrap up one of his
hands in a handkerchief steeped in vinegar, in
which she made so many blunders in tying and un-
tying, that she did no good.
“ You had better leave him to Margaret,” cried
Evelyn.
TREMAINE.
331
ec I believe so,’’ said Georgina, u and I believe I had
better run away, for I am unfit to be here ; only if
Mr. Tremaine thinks I can ever forget what he has
suffered for me ” ’twas all she could say.
But in her chamber, her heart said a great deal,
in that language which the good, the generous, and
the sensible alone can speak, or at least understand ;
that language which, when it proceeds from virtuous
feeling, and not mere weakness, is the favourite one
of heaven; in short, “ tears such as Angels weep,”
came to the relief of the oppressed Georgina.
If this seem surprising, considering the nature of
the accident, let it be recollected that it was not the
suffering merely, but the suffering in her defence,
a thing no generous rnan, much less generous wo-
man, can ever think of without emotion ; let it also
be recollected who the person was that had thus
suffered, and what had been the preceding alarms of
the morning, occasioned by that person ; lastly, let
it be recollected that all this was in the country,
two hundred miles from London — and none but the
coldest, critic, or the most deadened, vapid, unin-
teresting Exclusive of them all, Mrs. A — , or Lady
B — herself could pronounce these tears to be un-
natural.
Even Mrs. Winter could not blame them, though
they occasioned some little alarm to her present
views. For that prudent person, who knew how
to calculate chances in life, though not Demoivres,
was fearful that Tremaine’s wounded hand would
*
339
TREMAINE.
certainly be preferred to the sound one of Lord St.
Clair if both were offered ; and as she knew there
could be no chance of presiding at Woodington,
while on the other hand all Mount St. Clair was
open before her, her sympathies for the accident
that had befallen Tremaine were by no means so
pure and unmixed as those of her mistress.
When therefore she followed Georgina to her
chamber, and found her in an arm chair, melted in
tenderness, she began with, “ La ! Ma’am, I won-
der how you can take on so for a little burn or a
scald. The squire says himself it is just nothing at
all ; and I am sure it is nothing but what any one
would have done for you, let alone the squire, who
is so much obliged to master and you, for keeping
him from moping himself to death.”
Georgina, who was in no humour to encourage
this, made no direct reply, but after a pause, and as
if in soliloquy with herself, rather than talking to
her maid, of whose presence indeed she seemed
almost unconscious ; in an under voice too, exclud-
ing the attendant virgin entirely from the conference,
whispered, rather than exclaimed, C( I know not who
else would have done this for me but my father.”
“ But I do,” cried Mrs. Margaret, as if invited to
give her opinion. “ There is not a servant in the
house who would not have done it for so good a lady ;
but if you must have gentlefolks to be burned for you,
I think I know one, not far off, who would give his
crownet and his estate into the bargain, though per-
haps not so large as Squire Tremaine’s ”
TREMAINE. 333
Ce Winter,” interrupted Georgina, with unfeigned
surprise, (e what can you be talking about ? — ”
a Why, what to be sure,” returned Margaret,
“ but what everybody is talking about My lord
at the Mount there, who is quite as handsome, and
much younger, (indeed I thinks the squire grows
older and older every day,) and would be scalded
to death in every bone of his skin to save your little
finger.”
Georgina, though any thing but in a playful
mood, could not help being struck with this sally
of her duenna, and as she felt that Margaret’s lo-
quacity diverted her from emotions that had grown
far too serious for her not to wish to suppress them,
she allowed her to proceed.
“My lord too,” continued the dame, “ though
so young, goes regularly to church that is, when
he is in the country, and both Mr. Martin and Mrs.
Devil— (to be sure I always thought that the oddest
name for a lady’s woman that ever I did hear) —
Well, ma’am, they say my lord is the most ge-
nerous, politest, dutifullest son that ever was, and
so civil to Mr. Trip, though he is only a poor vicar,
not at all like my master, you know ma’am, that
he is always riding with him when down, a sure
proof that he has a great regard for the church.”
cc Margaret,” said Georgina, whose thoughts
could stray no longer, u what can all this mean ?”
£< Mean !” cried Margaret, “ ah ! to be sure your
ladyship knows better than me.”
w I protest I do not,” answered Georgina.
334
TREMAINE.
“Why la! ma’am,” continued the maid, “it is
the talk of all the two parishes, and others too, for
what I know.”
“What? what? my good woman,” asked her
mistress, rising to return down stairs.
“ Why that your ladyship is to be Lady St. Clair,
and my lord you know came last night.”
“ And is this all ?” said Georgina coldly. It had
the effect however of making her resume her chair,
and seeing that her maid had finished the little busi-
ness that brought her up stairs, she desired her to
leave her, and acquaint her father, and Mr. Tremaine,
if he asked, that she was much better.
u I see no reason to tell the squire,” said the dame
as she shut the door.
Georgina, left to herself, could not help ponder-
ing what she had just heard. Can it be, said she,
that this foolish report is revived, for she knew her
name had been coupled some time before with that
of St. Clair. Or is there really any thing in Lady
St. Clair’s letter, more meant than greets the eye ?
At these words she took from her cabinet the letter
she had lately received from her kinswoman, part
of which was as follows.
“ You know St. Clair is soon coming. His amia-
ble attentions to me are the comfort of my age,
and denote a goodness of heart seldom now seen
among young men of his quality. What an admira -
ble husband he would make, and what would I not
give to see him settled with some amiable girl like
TREMAINE.
33b
yourself) leading a life so much to his taste as this
place would afford ! I want indeed to tell you a
secret about this.”
It concluded with announcing an intention to give
a fete on his arrival, and a request to 66 her pretty
Georgina” to come and assist in the planning of it.
Nonsense ! exclaimed Georgina, and tore the
letter to pieces. Yet could she not prevent herself
from thinking of Margaret’s intimations, in which,
with all her absorption in regard to another, and all
her conviction that St. Clair could never succeed
were he even to court her, if any one imagine she
did any thing that the very best girl of twenty in all
the world would not have done, — why he and I
have read nature in different books.
Recovered from the perturbations of the morning,
she was about to rejoin her father and his guest,
when she beheld them in the closest conference in the
broad walk that led to the rookery fronting her
window. Tremaine’s hand, by Evelyn’s advice,
was in a sling, and it touched Georgina to the heart
to see it. What a moment for the Viscount to open
the siege he meditated ! Yet so fortune contrived
it, and so we are bound to relate it.
336
TREMAINE.
CHAP. XXXVII.
A YOUNG NOBLEMAN OF GREAT PROMISE.
“ The excellent foppery of the world.”
SHAKSPEARE.
Lord Viscount Si. Clair had been bred at Eton,
and afterwards at Cambridge. At the first of these
he learned to construe most of the odes of Horace ;
at the last, he took an honorary degree. He after-
wards travelled into Greece and Italy, with a gen-
tleman whose expenses he paid, and who published
his tour in a thick quarto, in which my lord’s name
was mentioned not less than seven or eight times. On
his return, he began to collect a library, and filled a
large room with curious editions, and specimens of
the antique from Athens. Being of an active dis-
position, he had not time to cultivate his literary
taste, but made up for it by a very laborious atten-
tion to politics, and for the first three months of his
first session in the House of Commons never missed
a division, in which he voted always with the minis-
try, and was more than once appointed a teller.
Emboldened by this success, he the next session
volunteered moving the address ; but being of very
independent principles, and moreover having been
TREMAINE.
337
rather impertinently rallied by his companions at the
clubs in St. James’s Street (to all of which he be-
longed), on his devotion to the court, he the very
next day voted against his friends, to shew his inde-
pendence, and continued to do so ever afterwards.
All this created for him considerable reputation ;
and his table for the rest of that session was covered
with political pamphlets, many of them from the
authors.
There is no saying to what this career might not
have led ; but his father dying, and having acquired
a taste for architecture in his travels, he pulled down
the Gothic mansion at St. Clair, and built up a hand-
some Italian villa in its stead. During- this time lie
made a collection of all the books upon architecture -
that had been published for the last hundred years,
most of the plates of which he actually inspected.
He also betook himself to planting, and understood
Bishop Watson's calculation on the value of larches
perfectly well.
It is seldom that a person dedicated to ambition,
literature, and the arts, embraces amusements requir-
ing violent personal exertion ; but being of a very
versatile genius, Lord St. Clair became a member of
the Leicestershire hunt, and at length (having entered
several horses at Newmarket) of the JockyClub.
Still there was wanting something to the univer-
sality of his reputation ; and a nobleman of celebrity
having just then broke with her, he formed a 4 liai-
son,’ rather 4 dangereuse,’ with a certain Pauline,
VOL. II. Q
338
TREMAINE.
who was at that time at the pinnacle of fashion.
This giving his mother some uneasiness, to whom he
was always particularly dutiful, (visiting her and his
new house the first of every September,) he had the
greatness and piety to give up his mistress, at a con-
siderable expense indeed, though after a calculation
which only did honour to his skill both in figures and
self-knowledge. By the first of these he found he
could get rid of the lady for little more than one
year’s purchase ; by the last, that it had been some
time since he had not cared a farthing about her.
But this being accidental, and at any rate not known
to all the world, did not at all diminish his character
as an excellent son.
All this made him, as was natural, a very consider-
able person ; and being now eight-and-twenty, and
blessed with a suitable fortune, everybody had begun
to speculate upon the lady he would marry. Nay,
there were many bets upon it at White’s. Some of
these pointed at the family of a noble peer, high in
office, merely because our viscount was in opposition,
an anomaly, which has in fact, much to the credit of
our liberality of manners, become exceedingly in
fashion. Others, again, propounded an opinion that
he had either too much impetuosity, or too much in-
difference, to be within any speculation at all as to
marriage ; and that, if he married, he would commit
matrimony, as he had every thing else.
Such was St. Clair. If Georgina should marry
him now after all !
TREMAINE.
339
CHAP. XXXVIII.
IN WHICH THE AUTHOR GETS CONFUSED.
“ There is such confusion in my powers.’’
** How much a man’s a fool, when he
“ Dedicates his behaviours to love !”
SHAKSPEARE.
And why should she not ? We have said he had
a good person ; nay, he was handsome, and with
that thorough look of gentlemanly nonchalence,
which, like the fine breeding of the Somersets, must
be born with a man, and is not to be acquired. Let
no one from this imagine, that nonchalence, and fine
breeding, are the same things. They are as different
as French from Italian music, or as radicalism from
patriotism.
Still, why should she not ? He was young, as well
as handsome ; had a fortune unimpaired, and, ac-
cording to the maxims of the world , had absolutely
no vice. To be sure he was said to have been refu-
sed by a certain Lady Eleanor G, but I never could
make that out ; and besides, having gone (without
knowing why, except that he was laughed at,) head-
long into opposition, the offer, if made, was thought
Q 2
340
TREMAINE.
to have been only with a view to political connec-
tion, and no one could suspect this with Miss Evelyn.
Then why should she not accept him ? — but Lord
bless me! the offer has not yet been made; it is
strange how I hurry things ; though perhaps for this
once, not much ; for, with whatever intention, here
he is at this moment, ringing at Evelyn’s gate with
all his might.
His entrance was announced to Georgina by the
faithful Margaret, while a footman set out in quest
of her father, who was walking with Tremaine
among the rooks, and engaged with that gentleman
in a pointed conversation about this identical peer.
Georgina was thinking of him above stairs, and Mrs.
Margaret below ; the deuce is in it, if I have not
disposed things with all possible concomitant inte-
rests to give importance to his visit, whatever might
be its object.
That object was in effect, the most solemn and
important that a human being could propose to him-
self in life. It was neither more nor less than to
offer his hand to Miss Evelyn, either through her
father, or to herself at once, as opportunity might
arise.
Now what a charming chapter might be written
upon this subject, for how many thousand ways are
there, all of them equally interesting, in which this
great question may be propounded, and in how many
corresponding thousand ways may it not be received !
It may be done sitting, standing, or singing,
TREMAINE.
341
laughing or crying, walking, in a carriage, or on
horseback, in a drawing-room, or at a ball, (this last
very frequent and efficacious,) or at a dinner, or in
the open air. I remember it once in a shower of
rain, in which the lover having seized his mistress’s
hand, she had no alternative but to accept him, or
get wet through. She chose the first. This was a
dangerous experiment, because the shower might
have extinguished the flame on both sides.
I have known it in writing, by innuendo, in a
copy of verses, which might be taken or not as the
parties pleased. This mode is most convenient, be-
cause if you are refused, you may swear you meant
nothing, for poetry is fiction, and the lady gets only
the imputation of vanity for her pains.
On the other hand there is the protestando, in
matter of fact prose. This generally contains some-
thing about settlements, and does for the parents,
but not so well for the lady, who looks for something
more refined, sparkling, and ingenious.
Then, again, it may be done boldly, or sheepishly.
The last seldom succeeds, except there has been a
previous tuition by the mamma, who thinks the offer
a good one.
There is your confident manner, (often good)
your tender manner, (sometimes better ;) or your
careless, indifferent manner. (This last very doubt-
ful, except the lady is very much bent upon it herself
and then any manner will do.) Now what was
Lord St. Clair’s manner ?
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342
TREMAINE.
But I must really adopt a slower method, or 1
shall never get through my facts. My digression on
the modes, however instructive and entertaining as it
regards my reader, was impolitic as it regards myself,
for I have two lovers on my hands at the same time;
and while St. Clair is offering in the drawing-room?
Tremaine is offering in the rookery ; and Georgina’s
doubts and hesitations, and her father's arguments,
and old Lady St. Clair’s representations, and dame
Margaret’s persuasions, thicken so fast upon me, that,
like Lawyer Dowling, I may assert that if I could
cut myself into twenty pieces, I could at this instant
find employment for them all.
CHAP. XXXIX.
HOW TO MAKE AN OFFER.
“ What folly I commit I dedicate to you.”
SHAKSPEARE.
A few pages back we left Lord St. Clair ringing
at the gate of Evelyn Hall. Now whether from the
agitations of the morning about Tremaine, or the
hints in old Lady St. Clair’s letter, or the more
than hints of her waiting woman, certain it is that
TREMAINE. 343
Georgina was quite in a tremor when she heard she
had been asked for by this distinguished person.
u We shall now see who is shilly shally,” said
dame Margaret, as her mistress left her to go down
stairs.
The viscount, to do him justice, was very much
at his ease, and succeeded in making Georgina
feel so too. The weather, Newmarket, a fete at
Carlton House, and a fancy ball at the Opera House,
were talked of with as much volubility, intermixed
with bon mots of Beaumont, as if he had come
with no design to talk of any thing else. This
greatly relieved Georgina, who began to laugh at
herself for her own suspicions ; when, after about
twenty minutes conversation, the servant, who had
gone in quest of her father, returning with an ac-
count that he absolutely could not find him, the
viscount got up to take his leave, and while Geor-
gina was standing to do the honours, with exactly
the same manner, voice, and countenance in which
he had been entertaining her, only as if he had
suddenly recollected something of importance, he
observed to her, 66 By the way, my dear Miss Evelyn,
my mother wishes sadly to see you upon an affair
of consequence, in which my own happiness is ma-
terially concerned ; and as she cannot come to you,
may I have the honour to think you will have the
goodness to call upon her in your next ride ?”
Georgina assured him she had always great plea-
sure in calling upon Lady St. Clair. u I suppose,’
Q 4
344
TREMAINE.
said she, ei it is to talk about the fete she announced
in a letter I lately received from her?”
“ Something more than that, I assure you,” re-
turned the viscount, “ something in truth that has
brought me all the way from London; and I have
told you,” added he, with easy confidence, and
squeezing her hand, which he had touched as if in
taking leave, “ my own happiness or unhappiness is
most materially concerned in it.”
If this were an offer, as it was the first, beautiful
as she was, that Georgina had ever received, no
wonder she did not understand it. Had it been
more explicit, she would have known how to answer.
As it was, it was at least ambiguous ; and so little
practised in acquired manners, (particularly dandy
manners,) we must not be surprised if she coloured,
felt awkward, and knew not what to say.
My lord, whose ease never left him, was delighted.
He attributed it all to the dazzling nature of the
intimation he had made; thought it the best proof
of success, and could almost have expressed a rap-
ture on the occasion, but that the effort of feigning
what one does not feel is too much for real dan-
dyism to undertake ; in which, be it observed, that
the question of honesty as to feigning is not at all
the matter concerned. He therefore contented him-
self with saying, u I see I have agitated you, which
I assure you does me a great deal of honour ; but
I hope an interview with Lady St. Clair will settle
all to your satisfaction ; and perhaps you will now
TREMAINE. 345
thank me for leaving you, only I hope soon to see
you again.”
At these words he lifted her passive hand, which
in her surprise, and totally unconscious of it, she
had allowed him to retain, and pressed it to his lips;
then thinking, what was indeed true, that he had
made a prodigious exertion, he opened the drawing-
room door, at which they had been standing all this
time, and switching his boots with a hurried step
till he reached his horses, he rode home and delighted
his mother with an account that he had been ac-
cepted.
CHAP. XL.
ANOTHER MODE OF MAKING AN OFFER.
“ The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
“ And time to speak it in.”
SHAKSPEARE.
It is I think high time to return to Tremaine,
whom we left with his hand in a sling, walking with
his friend to the rookery, in which they were sought,
but not found, by Roger the footman.
Roger, plebeian soul, was no longer in love, if
ever he had been, and had at best never known the
Q 5
346
TREMAINE.
refined agitations of the passion ; for Hannah
Cook had long since crowned and extinguished all
agitations by giving him her hand. They had
indeed been united for near twenty years, and had
both grown fat in the easy, quiet servitude of the
Doctor’s household, in which they looked to pass
the remainder of their lives. This may account for
Roger’s not having opened his eyes quite wide
enough, or so much as turned his head, when he
passed through the rookery ; since, had he done so,
he must have seen his master with his friend stand-
ing at a gate, through which, before his return, they
had let themselves into a walk by the side of the
little river that runs between Evelyn and Wooding-
ton Halls.
Evelyn was for many minutes full of Tremaine’s
kindness in having saved his dear child’s person at
the expense of his own.
66 I confess,” said he, u I should not have liked to
have seen poor Georgy so hurt as she must have
been, judging from the pain you have suffered; yet
believe me I would much rather have been the
person to have saved her myself.”
ic And believe me,” answered Tremaine, u I am
more rejoiced than I can tell you, that you were
not.”
It was not that Tremaine was proud, or vain, or
boastful, on this occasion. He did not feel an inch
taller, nor was his heart inflated in a single vesicle
the more for it. He was neither fier, orgueilleux,
TREMAINE.
S\ 7
nor glorieux, nor even avantageux, at his good for-
tune, as a Frenchman would have been ; yet there
was an air of happy tenderness about him. No ; he
would not have parted with the satisfaction of having
lamed himself for a considerable time, in saving the
most beautiful person in the world, for all that the
world could have given him, except that person
herself.
Evelyn was not only surprised but overpowered
by the warmth of feeling his friend had just exhi-
bited ; so that before he could make any reply,
Tremaine had exclaimed, somewhat abruptly —
“ She has certainly the most beautiful hand and
arm that ever belonged to woman !”
Evelyn did not perceive the concatenation of
ideas by which this exclamation had been produced,
at a moment when the hand and arm of the lady
were not at all in question, but observed — (C It is
well my daughter does not hear you ; for though I
believe she has as little vanity as is reasonable for
her sex, I know no girl of twenty that could stand
this.”
u Would she were thirty!” said Tremaine, and
walked on.
“ She is very much obliged to you, and I too,”
observed Evelyn ; “ but ten years are a gift of whicli
I am now not at all ambitious.”
u Then I wish I were Lord St. Clair,” said
Tremaine.
<c Nay, now I cannot understand you,” answered
Evelyn.
348
TREMAINE.
u Then, my friend,” rejoined Tremaine at once,
as if catching at the opportunity — “ with all your
penetration, your learning, and observation, you are
not so read as I thought you in the human heart.
Is it possible you do not know that I have long
loved your daughter — loved her to distraction
u How long have you known it yourself?” asked
Evelyn.
u I believe ever since I first saw her ; but last
night to a certainty, when I was told that St. Clair
had proposed to her.”
u The secret then is out,” observed Evelyn, re-
collecting Lady St. Clair’s letter.
u Good heaven ! he has then proposed to her,
and been accepted ! Her agitations in the garden
this morning, — your visit.— -Ah ! it is all clear to
me.”
e( I wish it were so to me,” answered Evelyn,
u but to me it is all darkness, darkness not even
visible. I know nothing of St. Clair.”
“ Nor that he would be accepted if he were to
offer ?”
“ That I cannot pretend to say.”
te Good God !” cried Tremaine, u could you not
tell whether he would be accepted or refused ?”
“ As I am not the person to be married,” replied
Evelyn, <c I could not.”
u Would you then leave it all to your daughter ?”
“ Most assuredly.”
“ I am lost!” exclaimed Tremaine.
TREMAINE.
349
“ It is at least time you should find yourself,”
returned Evelyn. 66 But at present, my good and
dear friend, you are too much agitated for me to
make you out. Let us turn to this walk which
leads to your spring. I little thought it could be at
any time, still less so soon, the scene of another
conversation, if possible more interesting than that
of yesterday.”
c( Yesterday ! ah ! I shall never forget it,” said
Tremaine.
“ I trust not,” replied his friend, u but our pre-
sent subject — ”
u Is very different ; and alas ! as little likely to be
satisfactory.”
Tremaine then entered at large into his present
subject ; made the whole confession of his long
observation of Georgina’s character, his instanta-
neous admiration of her beauty, the enchantment of
her manners, the impression of her virtues — his
jealousy, his despair.
Evelyn, with a heart full and eyes glistening,
observed he did not understand the adoption of the
last two words.
“ Why, I am not such a coxcomb to suppose that,
with such a disparity of years, I can be thought of
at all, much less in comparison with St. Clair, who,
what ever you may think, has, I have reason to be-
lieve, a serious design to offer to Miss Evelyn.”
(i I wish,” replied his friend, u this interesting
matter were half as free from difficulty in other
350
TREMAINE.
points as it is on the score either of your age, or of
Lord St. Clair’s pretensions. That a girl does not
usually give her affections to a man twenty years
older than herself, I grant you ; as readily that she
may be dazzled by a coronet and a young and
handsome fellow. But Miss Evelyn is perhaps not
of this class of females, and will decide I imagine
upon higher grounds than either the first or the last
— than the last certainly.”
ct You allow then,” cried Tremaine in alarm,
“ that the difference of years may have its natural
effect ?”
u Can I dispute it, and speak as sincerely as
usual ?” answered Evelyn. (e But at least my daugh-
ter’s tastes are not those of the many. Her educa-
tion in seclusion and ignorance of the world, her
sense of your benevolence ; her high sense of honour
wherever she sees it, not to mention her sensibility
to the attentions with which you distinguish her,
and the absence of all those attentions from others ;
all this might give you chances even against our
cousin of St. Clair, whose trifling character I should
be disappointed if she did not think herself above.”
In uttering these words, the Doctor erected his
chest, and breathed quicker ; for to say truth, there
was but one subject on which he had what may be
called pride — his daughter, for whom, in point of
mere rank or fortune, no prince on earth he thought
could be too good.
The pleasure conceived by Tremaine at this was
mixed. He was pleased with the tone in regard to
TREMAINE.
351
St. Clair ; he was not displeased with the tone in
regard to himself. Yet not only it seemed there
were difficulties , not easily to be got over, but some
of the ideas broached by the Doctor, as to the seclu-
sion of her life, her ignorance of the world, and the
absence of attentions from others, by no means
flattered the deep rooted, and perhaps here, not
improper pride of our man of refinement.
He walked on for some minutes without reply,
during which, ideas of the most important kind
crowded so fast upon him, that he could find no
tongue to give them utterance.
“ Yes,” at last he exclaimed, 66 it is certainly
true. Miss Evelyn lias seen little of the world ; of
those societies of which she is formed to be the
ornament. There are few, none that can deserve
her ; and of the few she might not reject, she has
not even been where one could be found. If she
see them, what chance have I ? If she see them
not, could I even succeed — to what should I owe my
success ?”
The Doctor, whose heart and head too were al-
most as full as his friend’s, and who could at first as
little find vent for his thoughts, perceived, from his
knowledge of Tremaine, what string was now vi-
brating. It gave him, however, little uneasiness ;
and he would willingly have compounded for Tre-
maine’s satisfying him upon other points, as well as
he (the Doctor) could satisfy Tremaine upon this.
Breaking silence, therefore, on his part, he ob-
served that Tremaine seemed to pay but a poor com-
352
TREMAINE.
pliment to his daughter’s rank in society, when he
supposed her so ignorant. Then, in a lighter tone,
he aked — ce Has she not seen all Yorkshire ? And
is there now such a difference between Yorkshire
and Grosvenor Square ?”
Tremaine looked enquiringly, as if to make out
whether he could mean to rally on such a subject.
“ Besides,” continued he, K has she not seen
Grosvenor Square itself at Bellenden House ?”
66 My friend,” said Tremaine, “ you are jesting,
which I did not expect.”
u Less perhaps than you imagine,” returned Eve-
lyn. u That there must be persons of infinitely more
worth than Lord St. Clair, and Mr. Beaumont, et
id genus omne, is 1 hope true ; yet you must confess
yourself, they are men of the very first monde, and
would be produced as very fair specimens of the ge-
nerality of bachelors of fashion. Beaumont is be-
sides generally considered as a man of natural abili-
ties ; and our cousin there, came home from Greece
and Florence with the reputation of a young man of
the greatest promise. Yet, if that were all, I would
bid not only your own heart, but your own pride,
which I perfectly well understand, not to be afraid.”
“ I thank you,” replied Tremaine, a for so much
comfort as this would give me (and indeed it is not
a little), that the ten years advantage which St.
Clair has over me could be done away. But all
young men are not St. Clairs.”
u Still less,” returned Evelyn, “ are they Tre-
TREMAINE.
353
mairies. In many high qualities, as well as accom-
plishments, they certainly are not ; and without
these, I am mistaken if the freshest bloom of youth
could touch my daughter’s heart. Would to hea-
ven every thing else were as suitable !”
u You agree then,” said Tremaine, in some agi-
tation, “ that this sad disparity ”
u You still speak of disparity of years,” observed
Evelyn.
u I do. Of what else would you have me speak ?”
6i Alas !” returned his friend, and pressing the
arm that was within his — 66 would to heaven there
was no other disparity!”
(e What can you possibly mean ?”
<£ I mean all that a good father, or good young
woman, must mean, when they are not indifferent to
every thing beyond the world. I wish there were
not such cruel disparities of opinion upon all that can
concern the very heart and soul of man — all that can
belong to us in this world or the next ! With such
dissimilitudes, or rather such fatal opposition be-
tween us as there is on these points, much as we love
you, were you prince of the world, I tell you fairly,
you would not succeed.”
Tremaine was thunderstruck at these words. He
had not expected them, had not contemplated their
possibility, had not even thought of the case. He
breathed thick and frequent ; and it was some time
before he could recover his voice. His whole hope
seemed blasted by what was totally unlooked for ;
354
TREMAINE.
indeed, no young person, and no young person’s fa-
ther or mother, that had ever engaged his attention,
had ever thought of such a thing. He was con-
founded, and his eyes swam in a kind of giddi-
ness.
Evelyn pitied him from his heart, and not the less
from seeing such a devoted attachment to his daugh-
ter, that could the difficulty be got over, no match
that the world could offer would have been half so
agreeable to him.
At length recovering sufficient voice, Tremaine
made an effort to ask whether these were Miss Eve-
lyn’s sentiments as well as her father’s?
66 They are,” said Evelyn.
<c You have then discussed the matter ?” observed
Tremaine, with some shrewdness.
The Doctor saw all the difficulty of his answer ;
but between difficulty and truth, he never had a
choice. He therefore told him very fairly, that he
had for some time perceived, if not his attachment,
yet at least that he treated and talked of Geor-
gina as he did of no other woman ; in short, quite
enough to awaken a father’s observation.
a Nor will I conceal from you my uneasiness,”
added he, u when I found I had more and more rea-
son to suspect, in regard to your religious principles,
what yesterday was so dreadfully confirmed.”
u Say rather my no principles,” said Tremaine,
with a sigh.
u And yet,” continued he, while a transient
TREMAINE.
355
gleam shot across his face, for which I will not pre-
tend to account — 66 why should this make you un-
easy on Miss Evelyn’s account ?”
“ It would be gross affectation, nay, duplicity,”
replied Evelyn, C( to say I do not understand you.
You are welcome, therefore, to such pleasure as it
may give you, to learn, that as a father I feared the
impressions of those attentions, notwithstanding the
disparity which so alarms you.”
Tremaine’s countenance grew light.
u Butin justice to Georgina,” continued the Doc-
tor, “ I am also bound to say my fears are at an end,
for no mischief has been done.”
Tremaine’s features fell again ; and he observed,
with some distance in his manner —
“ You must have gone far with her, to come to
this conclusion.”
To this, Evelyn replied with prompt firmness^-
u It was my duty to examine her, and I did so.”
The conversation dropped for a few paces, when
Tremaine resumed it, by asking, not without some
trepidation —
“ Am I to understand then, that, except for my
tenets, as you call them, Miss Evelyn ”
But he could get no farther.
u My dear friend,” said his upright companion,
(i I need not point out to a mind like your’s the in-
justice, the unfairness, of tempting me to give an
opinion on this question ; an opinion, which, to
whatever side it leans, must compromise me either
356
TREMAINE.
with my daughter or my friend ; and which, in re-
gard to my daughter, cannot but end in compromi-
sing her delicacy.”
“Oh! God forbid!” said Tremaine. “ ’Tis a
delicacy on which there never was, and never can
be a spot.”
Ct 1 hope so ; nay, I believe so,” observed Evelyn ;
“ nor can I do better than to leave it to its own
keeping.”
“ x\ny way then,” said Tremaine, mournfully,
“ my doom is sealed.”
“ I have not said so,” replied Evelyn. “ On the
contrary, if it pleased heaven to enlighten you to a
sense of its own truth ”
“ What then ?” cried Tremaine, catching at these
words.
“ Why then my daughter, (I mean no more,) is
open to be woo’d ; and need 1 add a father’s wishes
that she may be won ?”
Tremaine thanked him, but with less warmth of
manner than usual, and continued many minutes in
silence.
“ You are displeased with me,” said Evelyn after
a pause.
“ I have at least no right to be so,” answered Tre-
maine. “ I dare say you have done what every father
thinks himself bound to do.”
“ I have done nothing,” said Evelyn.
“Miss Evelyn’s feeling is then spontaneous ?”
“ Most assuredly.”
TREMAINE.
35 7
44 But upon your representation that I was
May I ask what was the character you gave of me ?”
44 You are unkind to put it in this way,” replied
his companion, 44 for well you know that but for
those sad opinions, every feeling, wish, and even pre-
judice, is in your favour. But with my observation
of your attentions, mean they what they might, I
could not shrink from the duty of informing the
daughter of my heart, of the wild overthrow of what
I think one of the finest of minds, which has led you,
while you acknowledge a creator, to deny his provi-
dence, to believe that we perish like the beasts, and
to live an unhappy infidel instead of a reverent
Christian.”
44 Am I all this ?” said Tremaine with emotion.
44 You have said it,” answered Evelyn, 44 and be-
lieve me it rent my very heart.”
44 Good friend!” cried Tremaine, 44 but what if
these opinions were renounced, were changed
should i then ”
44 You would then be at liberty, that is, the field
would be open.”
44 But with what hope of success ?”
44 1 am not the person to decide.”
44 Would you bid me despair ?”
44 No.”
The conversation again stopt, and Tremaine fell
into much thought ; when, after some minutes inter-
val, and assuming a very solemn air, in which there
was more formality than he ever yet had shewn to
35 8
TREMAINE.
his friend, he said, “ Doctor Evelyn, hitherto you
have answered for your daughter, in a matter on
which you allow she alone must judge. Have you
any objection to let her answer for herself?”
66 None in the world.”
“ Then, though I perish, 1 will make the at-
tempt.”
A bell which was sometimes rung when Evelyn
was in his grounds, and particularly wanted, now
began to sound through the little dell formed by the
river on whose banks they were walking ; and as the
conversation seemed exhausted, Tremaine proceeded
to let himself into the walk by the spring, which he
had by that time reached ; and Evelyn returned to
the house.
CHAP. XLI.
AN AFFRONT.
“ Touch me with noble anger.”
SHAKSPEARE.
u Does Lord St. Clair then think that my girl is to
be had for asking, and for no other reason that I
can discover but because he is a lord ?”
cc 1 trust he must shew far other pretensions, as
TREMAINE. 359
well as my lady his mother, my affectionate and
admiring cousin here, as she calls herself.”
C( I imagine he must do something more than
merely throw his handkerchief : his conduct is a
downright affront — I believe indeed he is only a
silly fellow, but he must be made to know it.”
This last sentence was the last of a series, suffi-
ciently angry to exhaust all the anger that Evelyn
was master of. He had begun with a letter from
Lady St. Clair in one hand, and another from her
son in the other, striding in considerable agitation
up and down the eating-room as soon as he had read
these letters.
It was they that had occasioned his recall from the
brook side, by order of Georgina, who had also
received a letter to the same import from Lady St.
Clair, which she had read in her own chamber, where
she now continued.
C( Call Miss Evelyn down,” said the Doctor, after
ringing his bell, and resuming his perambulation of
the eating-room. “ I protest I know not how to an-
swer these letters/’
66 You shall answer them for me,” continued he to
his daughter as she entered, 66 for you are the party
concerned.”
Georgina was thinking more of Tremaine than
either Lord St. Clair or his mother.
u Is Mr. Tremaine then gone home ?” asked she
with some anxiety. <c I fear his hand and arm are
much hurt.”
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TREMAINE.
a He is a brave fellow,” said the Doctor, u and
deserves you, with all his pride, much better than
this silly viscount.”
u Deserves me!” exclaimed Georgina, laying an
emphasis on the word.
u Aye ! better than this promising boy, as l re-
member he was called, though I never thought him
so, — and who would still 1 suppose be a promising
boy, but that he has been several years a man.”
“ My dear father, I know not what you mean by
deserves .”
And yet Georgina knew very well what she wished
him to mean.
The Doctor was still in thought, and the poor girl,
agitated to the extreme, ventured to begin a question
of the utmost importance to her heart.
“ Has Mr. Tremaine then ” said Georgina,
but she could get no farther.
Mr. Tremaine will speak for himself, and put all
my Georgy’s firmness to the trial.”
This speech renewed all the palpitations of the
early morning, from which, in truth, what had past
with Lord St. Clair, and the letters just received, had
by no means tended to recover her. Neither were
they at all cured, by the warm and encouraging
caresses of her father, who embraced and kissed her
with fervour, and implored blessings on her head.
“ But these letters, my love!” said Evelyn.
Georgina would have much rather talked of Tre-
maine.
TREMAINE.
361
a They seem to say that all is settled between you,
though I can scarcely guess that he has been here,
much less that he has talked to you on the subject.
How such a result as he conceives has ensued can
have been brought about, baffles all my conjectures.”
cc And mine,” said Georgina; “ nor am I yet re-
covered from my astonishment at Lady St. Clair’s
understanding of it.”
u Has he even spoke to you ?” asked Evelyn.
“ Spoken ! yes ; but to what purpose I should ne-
ver have known,' but for this letter, and a strange
manner of taking leave of me.”
She then recounted nearly all that had passed,
which moved the Doctor to risibility rather than to
anger, and he perhaps would have laughed aloud,
but that this was forbidden by the thought of what
awaited Tremaine, and the sight of the first uneasy
looks he had ever beheld in his life on the coun-
tenance of his sweet George.
As it was, he could not help saying he was sure
St. Clair would appeal to the Jockey Club, who
would certainly condemn her to fulfil her engagement.
66 I am most distressed about it,” said Georgina;
u I never meant, I could not even guess
I was vexed and surprised, nay alarmed at his
manner in leaving me ; I wanted indeed all my dear
father’s support.”
She then recounted and coloured violently as she
did it, that he had suddenly kissed her hand, in
token, as she now found, that he was accepted.
VOL. II. R
362
TREMAINE.
44 Coxcomb ! 'or rather poor shallow fellow,”
said Evelyn, with some anger; . 4C yet he is the hero
of Lady Gertrude’s circle, thinks Beaumont a man of
first-rate abilities, and is thought by many the orna-
ment of White’s.”
The Doctor’s anger soon evaporated.
44 Be at ease, my love,” said he, after a pause : 44 a
quarter of an hour’s ride, and five minutes talk, will
set all this right. We must expect to be abused,
certainly misrepresented then seeing his daugh-
ter downcast, he told her to cheer up, for those who
could abuse her could only be found among the
wicked.
Georgina assured him, and her assurance was true,
that as long as she possessed his approbation, and her
own conscience did not accuse her, the opinion of
persons who could not be informed would give her
little trouble.
She saw her father then mount his horse, and ride
for the second time that day to Villa St. Clair, as it
w r as now sometimes called, without much trouble of
mind. But though her eye pursued him from her
window till he was out of sight, her thoughts were at
Woodington.
TREMAINE.
363
CHAP. XLII.
HOW TO BEAR A REFUSAL.
“ This weak impress of love, is as a figure
“ Trenched in ice, which with an hour’s heat
“ Dissolves to water, and doth lose its form.”
“ Being a maid, yet rosy’d over
“ With the virgin crimson of modesty.”
SHAKSPEARE .
Evelyn, with the decision that belonged to him,
saw not only the exact state of what had passed
between St. Clair and his daughter, but that every
minute was of importance in removing an error,
which, if long unremoved, might become highly mis-
chievous. He therefore pushed on, and was luckily
at the gate of Villa St. Clair just as its owner in his
post-chariot and four was driving out of it to Eve-
lyn Hall. To do my lord justice, the complacency
of his features amounted almost to elation, at the
sight of what he thought his future father-in-law,
coming to convey his daughter’s consent and his
own joy.
Evelyn, however, as soon as he had dismounted,
took him by the arm, and trusting to his superiority
in age, having in truth often had him on his knee as
a child, hurried him into a private walk, and rushing
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364
TREMAINE.
in medias res, told him he was come to clear up
some unfortunate mistakes, which he would trust to
his candour to forgive.
The viscount almost actually changed counte-
nance at this intimation.
<c I hope, my dear Sir,” he exclaimed, lc I can’t
have been misunderstood. I endeavoured to be as
explicit as possible.”
C; Your letters certainly were so,” replied Evelyn,
<c but your interview as certainly not.”
u I told Miss Evelyn my happiness or unhappiness
was concerned,” rejoined the viscount; u and when
a young lady hears that, and does not reply, surely
c’est une affaire arrangee.”
u I am afraid our country manners do not keep
pace with'yours in town, if that is the way the thing
is understood there.
cc I can only say,” replied the viscount, u that
many a man in town has been called out for not ful-
filling words much less explicit.”
He said this with even emotion, but whether of
love or resentment seemed problematical.
u My dear lord,” cried Evelyn, “ you are to con-
sider that the object you have thus honoured is a
mere country girl ; and though not beneath your
notice, if I may be permitted to say so, being indeed
your kinswoman, and not uneducated or unaccom-
plished,—”
St. Clair stopped, and seemed to listen with a sort
of sullenness, when at length assuming an air of ex-
TREMAINE. 365
quisite hauteur, keeping his body straight, but bowing
his head as low as that position would admit—
u Am I to understand,” said he, u that my pro-
posals are declined ?”
66 What can I say?” returned Evelyn, a little
moved on his part.
c{ I have told you I came to explain a mistake, but
I trust you will not give me the pain of thinking you
offended.”
u If Miss Evelyn is indeed such a novice, so totally
ignorant of the forms of society, I know not what to
say to her behaviour,” replied St. Clair; “ but surely
she cannot have heard of what sacrifices I have
made for her, sacrifices which even you, my good
Doctor, may probably be surprised at.”
I confess I have not heard of them,” said
Evelyn.
6C Surely you must have heard of my attentions to
Lady Gertrude Bellenden, and I can only say that
— — ” here he hesitated.
u That she accepted you ?” asked Evelyn.
“ Pretty nearly so, for I had actually made up
my mind to offer to her.”
u Which you concluded was the same thing ?”
Undoubtedly,” answered St. Clair.
c< My dear lord,” returned Evelyn, “ I hope it is
not yet too late.”
u I trust not,” replied the peer, relaxing into
carelessness and quickening his pace. u Country
ladies I see are strange creatures, and I was wrong
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366
TREMAINE.
to come down on such an errand, but in fact my.
mother was to blame for it all.”
u I am sorry for it,” observed Evelyn; then seeing
his companion quickening his pace still more, and
assuming more and more carelessness, even so as to
pick up a pebble, and throw it at some swans in a
neighbouring sheet of water,
“ My good lord,” cried Evelyn, “ 1 am glad to
see this contretems is not of much consequence to
you,”
“Not the least in the world,” replied the vis-
count. “ I have been misled by my mother ; and
really, to please her as much as myself, resolved to
shew Miss Evelyn the preference to Lady Gertrude,
which, give me leave to tell you,” added he, drawing
up his fine tall figure, “ I thought no common mark
of attachment.”
“ I think so too,” observed Evelyn, “ and we are
proportionably your debtors. But presuming on
our old acquaintance, may I ask, was your love for
Lady Gertrude exceedingly great ?”
“ As great as a man usually feels for a proper and
eligible wife.”
“ May I go on to ask, when this love was aban-
doned ?”
“ I know not that it ever was abandoned, only I
loved Miss Evelyn more, as I think I have proved.”
“ Believe me, Miss Evelyn will be fully sensible
of the obligation she is under to you, but ”
“ But my proposals are declined. No more needs
TREMAINE.
367
be said : you are the best judges of what alliance will
suit you best, and I wish Miss Evelyn a higher and
better partie .”
Had this been said with any thing like a feeling
of mortification or concern, Evelyn would have been
moved at it, and attempted something soothing in
reply. But upon looking into the viscount’s face,
he could see little there but pride struggling to con-
ceal what he evidently felt as an affront. As to
love, much more wounded love, there was not a
feature of it ; and it decided Evelyn to take his
leave, without even an attempt to conciliate him.
They returned therefore to the house, where Eve-
lyn’s horse was still waiting, which mounting, the
viscount took leave of him, with the very stiffest
condescension, and instantly getting into the carriage
which had also been waiting, threw himself into a
corner of it, after ordering it, in Evelyn’s hearing,
to drive to Bellenden House.
368
TREMAINE#
CHAP. XLIII.
A PREPARATION.
“ If that thy bent of love be honourable,
“ Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow."
SHAKSPEARE.
ci You will not have the sin of murder on your
head,” continued he to Georgina, after he had told
her what had passed. 66 He bears the willow gal-
lantly. How can I pity you enough for refusing a co-
ronet and such devoted affection at the same time.”
" I never had a thought of the one or the other,”
said Georgina.
ci Lady Gertrude will think differently,” observed
her father.
“ I shall be glad if she does, for they seem to be
more suited to each other than I should have been
to him, or Lady Gertrude to ” a sigh stopt
what she was going to say.
Evelyn looked at her, and soon perceived where-
abouts she was. She had by no means recovered
the events of the morning.
A more critical, and indeed more painful task now
awaited him, and poor Georgina was destined to
hear of a conversation of far more consequence to
her peace. Evelyn offered to defer it till the next
day, and at any rate proposed to her to take time to
TREMAINE.
369
rally her scattered spirits. But she begged him to
proceed then.
“ Suspense I think,” said Georgina, 6C will only
make me worse.”
The Doctor thought so too, and sitting down by
her on her own sopha, (for it was in her little dress-
ing-room he had sought her when he returned from
St. Clair,) he took her hand, and with many a caress,
suited to the support which he saw she wanted, com-
municated to her the whole substance of what had
passed with Tremaine. To his astonishment he
found that it did not give that affliction to Georgina’s
feelings which he had expected. The Doctor was
indeed rather past the age of love. He was too
acute however not to perceive at once the reason for
that absence of sorrow, if I may not rather say that
accession of pleasure, which the first part of his com-
munication threw over the whole countenance of his
daughter. She at first indeed looked down upon
the hand that was fast grasped in her’s, while he was
speaking — her bosom heaved with agitation, she
blushed “celestial rosy red and I question if the
angel to whom those charming words were applied
could have looked more beautiful or more happy.
At length, as her father went on, a dimpled smile of
ineffable sweetness lit up her lovely features, and she
hid her face on Evelyn’s shoulder, as if she would
have concealed her emotion even from herself. Then
in a hesitating voice, in which however a man of
much less penetration than her parent could have
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TREMAINE.
discerned that there was as much of pleasure as of
any other feeling, she exclaimed,
“ Oh ! my dear father, at least then he loves me.”
Poor Evelyn, whose heart was sustaining a con-
flict from other thoughts, had not calculated upon
this first impression. He had only looked to the
concern that would be occasioned by the principles
of Tremaine ; and he felt startled, and not too happy
at seeing his daughter so moved : but the Doctor, as
I have said, was past the age of love.
“ True, my dearest girl,” returned he, “nor will I
conceal either from you or myself the pleasure of
thinking that in this our friend’s feelings are consist-
ent with his conduct ; that he has not attempted to
trifle either with you or with me.”
“ He never could,” observed Georgina in a low
voice.
“ His honour is like pure gold,” continued
Evelyn, “nor do I believe there is the smallest so-
phistication in his feelings. He loves you in short,
as I would wish you to be beloved. But ”
“ Alas ! my dearest father,” replied Georgina,
changing from all her happiness, “ 1 know what that
but would mean — his principles are insuperable, and
the gate for ever closed. — None but the Almighty
can open it,” and she gave a sigh that seemed to
shake her very heart.
“ What if you could do it yourself?” said Evelyn :
“ he means to seek you.”
“ To seek me ?”
TREMAINE.
371
“ Yes ! he asked if you thought as I did, and I
told him yes.”
66 You did right,” said Georgina mournfully.
66 But why then seek me ?”
cc He thought he had a right to be answered from
your own lips, and I could not but allow it.”
“ My dearest father, you are always most just — but
believe me this interview will be painful.”
The entrance of Margaret with a note to her mas-
ter interrupted this conversation. It was from Tre-
maine, requesting permission, at her own time, to
wait upon his daughter. If ever the warm fancy
that the body thinks seemed as if it could be realized,
it was at that moment, in the person of the lovely
Georgina. The blush of agitating interests struck
her father almost as much as it would Tremaine
himself, had he been present; nor are we positive
that this lovely blush, indicating so many contending
feelings, was absolutely without the expression of
pleasure : for say what we will, the impression of be-
ing beloved where we wish to be so, will throw a ray
of gold over the darkest disappointment, and mingle
sweetness with a draught, otherwise as bitter as gall.
God help thee, Georgina, thou never wert made to
taste of gall ; nor willingly shouldst thou be nourished
with any thing but the nectar of heaven. And oh !
that heaven in its mercy keep far far from that dear
and innocent heart the storm of affliction, with
which in its wisdom it sometimes tries the purest of
its favourites !
TREMAINE.
372
“ And what shall I say to him, my girl ?” asked
Evelyn.
u Advise me,” said Georgina.
“ I think to-morrow,” returned her father, u to-
morrow will be the best time. You have to-day
had too many agitations of different kinds not to
stand in need of repose. You will have time to re-
collect and compose yourself, for what will I know r
be a trial to you.
“ To-morrow let it be,” said Georgina.
Evelyn then left her, to answer Tremaine’s note;
and Georgina, locking her chamber door, fell upon her
knees in a recess of the room, and poured forth her
heart to a higher friend, protector, and guide, than
even the one who had just quitted her. She implored
to be enlightened, and strengthened ; to be led into
the right path, and kept in it : and she rose with half
the benefit already conferred, from the mere act of
having asked it.
CHAP. XL IV.
VERY WARM.
u All made of passion, and all made of wishes,
“ All adoration, duty, and observance,
et All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,
“ All purity, all trial.”
SHAKSPEARE.
Evelyn had asked Tremaine to breakfast, preli-
minarily to the interview he had sought with his
TREMAINE.
373
daughter ; and the fluttering heart of Georgina had
to sustain both agitation, disappointment, and relief,
when, after a loud ringing at the gate, not Tremaine
but her friend Careless entered the room.
Perhaps it was the only time in her life when she
was not glad to see him ; and yet for the moment, a
sensation of relief accompanied his approach.
u Did you expect me ?” said Careless, eyeing the
breakfast things, and seeing three covers. 66 If you did,
you must have had the second sight, for I did not
know myself I was coming here till five minutes ago.”
u And what has produced us the sudden honour ?”
asked Evelyn.
u Why, to find out truth, if I can, among a pack
of Lies,” said Jack, taking a chair; u but I see
nothing but plates and cups,” added he, getting up
again : “ where the devil is the cold beef? and who
have you coming ?”
“ Mr. Tremaine breakfasts here,” said Evelyn.
u He is always here, I think,” cried Jack. “Well,
so much the better for him,” and he looked slily at
Georgina. “ And now I think of it, it is vast con-
venient, for a good many of the lies, or the truth, or
both mayhap, are about him.”
The new custom of Georgina’s cheeks here found
plenty of employment; and Careless, whom she had
been used to set upon and mislead in very sport,
just as she pleased, now for the first time in her life
seemed a redoubtable being to her.
“ Let us hear your gossip before he arrives,” said
Evelyn.
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TREMAINE.
“ You shall,” answered Careless; “ but now I
think on’t, it is not much about hhn, but as old Qui
Tam would say, only collateral.”
Georgina felt greatly relieved.
“ Then who is your principal ?” cried Evelyn.
“You ! and that’s the reason I came ; and yet
not so much you, as you/’ and he looked again at
Georgina.
The poor girl was again as red as scarlet ; but
Jack again correcting himself, exclaimed, u after
all, it is most about your kinsman St. Clair.”
66 Proceed,” said the Doctor, with some impa-
tience.
“ Why, they say (but them bucks never know
their own minds,) that he came down on purpose to
run away with Georgy, for which, if she had been
base enough to leave Yorkshire, 1 would have cut
her off with a shilling. Nay, but the old woman,
his mother, said so herself, to the old Swish, who
tucks her up of a night, and worms every thing out of
her; and she told it to some one, who told it
“ To your Becky,” interrupted the Doctor.
“ Just so,” said Jack, who was however a little
disconcerted ; for of all things he was jealous of
Becky’s authority, from which he derived a great
deal of the family histories of the neighbourhood,
which he was fond of relating, but to which Evelyn
seldom submitted without a severe cross-examination';
and this had so often demolished her intelligence,
that the authority itself, together with Jack’s plea-
TREMAINE.
37 5
sure in it, had frequently tottered. Hence whenever
he was pushed to vouch Becky as his informant, par-
ticularly by Evelyn, he became immediately nervous
for the fate of all he was about to bring forward.
At present, events of the greatest possible import-
ance in Jack’s world depended upon it ; and he
seemed by this simple observation of Evelyn to be
called upon, not merely to narrate, and put together
in the most conspicuous order, a story rather long
and complex in its parts, but to sustain and demon-
strate the whole character of his housekeeper, for
accuracy and authority ; which character, as has
been observed, was in this house at least a little
doubtful.
u Just so,” said Jack, u but give me leave to tell
you, whatever you may think, Becky is ofi’ner right
than wrong.”
u Well, what does she say now ?” asked Evelyn.
“ It is a long story,” replied Careless, u but
the upshot is, that this sprig of a lord had been a
dangling the whole winter long after Lady Gertrude,
but Lady Gertrude was dying for love of Mounseer
Melancholy ; that the Mounseer did not know his
own mind, no more than my lord, but if he had
been young enough, wanted certainly to come a
courting to you, Georgy. So, to be beforehand with
him, my lord resolved to come a courting too, and
this he thought would get you from the squire, and
spite Lady Gertrude at the same time.”
u All very well contrived,” observed Evelyn, 66 and
very righteously resolved.”
376
Tremaine.
u So you will say,” pursued Careless, “ for the
short and the long of it was, that as soon as Lady
Gertrude heard this, she went raving mad with jea-
lousy, and sent over to the peer to recall him, and it
is all settled that they are to be married directly.”
“ Not unlikely,” said Evelyn, “ but by what 1
see, Georgy’s share in this story is that she is only to
be cheated out of a husband.”
ct Why that’s the puzzle,” replied Jack, u that 1
want to have cleared up; for you must know I was
told you were at the bottom of it all ; you were
consulted throughout ; my lord would not stir a step
without you ; and he was here once, and you twice
at St. Clair, yesterday, and afterwards he set off like
smoke for Bellenden House, where it was all settled
last night ; and this last, mind, I did not hear from
Becky, so perhaps you will believe it.”
u And whom did you hear it from ?” asked Evelyn.
“ My brother,” answered Jack, e: who is now at
Lord Bellenden’s, and was told it last night by St.
Clair himself ; and as he was just sending off a
haunch of venison by the coach to the Hound and
Horn club at Belford, he sent me this here note
along with it.”
Jack here, with some triumph, produced his cre-
dentials, and as he gave the note to Evelyn to read,
concluded with saying,
u And now I think you will not question Becky’s
news another time.”
The note was perfectly explicit, and added, in
terms, that as Lord St. Clair by no means meant the
Tremaine.
377
event to be a secret, Careless was at liberty to men-
tion it to the club, or any where else he pleased, and
as soon as he pleased.
Evelyn at once saw through the design of this, of
which the senior Careless was thus the instrument.
It was evident that St. Clair wished, as soon as pos-
sible, that it should reach himself and his daughter,
in order to shew them of how very little conse-
quence their refusal had been.
<c These men of the first monde,” said the Doctor,
putting the note into Georgina’s hand, u are surely
a different race from all the rest of human kind, in
all they think, say, and do.”
All farther discussion was now interrupted by the
arrival of Tremaine, who bit his lip at seeing Jack
there ; but upon the whole, trusting to a speedy op-
portunity of detaching him away, and the whole
party loving him as a thoroughly attached friend,
they were perhaps as well satisfied that during the
mere breakfasting their consciousness should be a
little diverted from itself, by such a companion.
It was impossible, however, for the recent intelli-
gence to escape mention during breakfast, and it cost
Tremaine, at first, no inconsiderable alarm.
He had remarked that Georgina received him
with a look peculiarly conscious, and downcast, nay,
abashed ; and before he could well draw her out
into the common tea-table discourse, he was abrupt-
ly saluted by Jack’s asking, with an almost wink at
his companions,
378
TREMAINE.
u Have you heard of the new Lady St. Clair ?
My lord offered, and was accepted yesterday, and all
the bells of Belford will be set ringing as soon as I
can get there.”
Tremaine, who had not yet obtained the use of
his wounded hand, was very near breaking another
of the Doctor’s china cups, or at least overturning it
into Georgina’s lap, at this sudden question, which
brought all the blood into his cheeks. It was evi-
dent he had heard nothing of Jack’s intelligence.
Looking at his friends for information, he was
surprised, and perhaps not quieted, at hearing from
Evelyn that it was all perfectly true. What would
have been the consequence might not have been cal-
culated, had not the Doctor, seeing his emotion, put
Jack’s note into his hands, saying —
u Notre chancelier vous dira le reste.”
<£ This is most surprising,” exclaimed Tremaine.
u I don’t know why,” said Careless, “ for both
the man and the girl have been a long time longing
to be married. Where’s the wonder they should
come together?”
“ True,” said Tremaine, and the breakfast went
on.
When it was finished, Jack fairly spared Evelyn
all contrivance to get rid of him ; for scarcely had
they risen from the table, before he said he must
leave them, to put his threat into execution of set-
ting the bells of Belford a ringing.
u Happy mortal !” exclaimed Tremaine, pursuing
TREMAINE.
379
him with his eye, and sighing as he spoke ; — ee care-
less in nature as in name. I believe, after all, it
would puzzle the best of our philosophers to equal
him.”
4( We will therefore let him alone,” said Evelyn,
u and wish there were more like him in the
world.”
At these words the good Doctor fairly left the
room.
Alone with Georgina, at his own desire, and by
her consent as well as her father’s, what was now the
situation of Tremaine ? The crisis of his life seemed
approaching; ten thousand feelings, notions, ideas,
seemed pulling him different ways, and crowded so
fast upon him, that every thing he had brooded over
for the last two days seemed blended into one vague
mass of indistinctness. Never was man at the mo-
ment so little fitted for the undertaking which yet he
had voluntarily courted.
I suppose every man thinks so when first about to
address the object of his love ; but how different
was Tremaine’s from the usual situations of this
sort! He was not merely ignorant of the state of
her heart towards him ; it was her mind, her prin-
ciples, her scruples, he had to sound ; he was to as-
certain, not merely whether she loved him, but
whether she would even allow him to ask that ques-
tion.
Georgina on her part was scarcely in less difficulty.
In agitation she was even worse ; for which indeed
380
TREMAINE.
her natural modesty might account; for surely in
this she was the purest creature on earth. She had
indeed one advantage over him. She knew that he
loved her, and had professed to do so, while he was
ignorant of her sentiments. But she knew also that
she loved him, and that the affection he was about
to proffer, which might have been the joy and bless-
ing of her heart, she herself would be forced to
reject, nay to pray might be extinguished.
C( Amour ! desir uni ! Ame de la nature ! Prin-
6e cipe inepuisabled’existence ! Puissance souveraine
“ qui peut tout, et contre laquelle rien ne peut ! Par
u qui tout agit, tout respire, et tout se renouvelle !
u divine flamme ! germe de perpetuite que l’eternel
cc a repandu dans tout avec le souffle de vie 1 pre-
u cieux sentiment qui peut seul amollir les coeurs
u feroces et glaces, en les penetrant d’une douce
u chaleur; cause premiere de tout bien, de toute so-
u ciete, qui reunit sans contrainte et par tes seuls
u attraits les natures sauvages et dispersees ! Source
u unique et feconde de tout plaisir, de toute volupte !
6C Amour ! pourquoi fais tu l’etat heureux de tous
66 les etres, et le malheur de l’homme !”
Alas ! that such a beautiful, such a glowing tri-
bute to the force and properties of love, should be
accompanied with such a debasing description of its
character as follows it ! Who would suppose that
he who could put together these impressive sen-
tences, could deny any moral elevation to the power-
ful passion he had thus painted, and reduce all the
TREMAINE. 381
sentiment that distinguished it from a mere sensual
feeling to vanity ? (a)
Was the love either felt or inspired, by Georgina,
vanity? I want no other answer than this ques-
tion, to the flimsy philosophy that could hazard such
an assertion.
Never were two people who loved, or did not love
one another, so disconcerted at being left alone to-
gether as Tremaine and Georgina.
Her father’s quitting the room seemed to plunge
her into a difficulty, from which she could only be
relieved by quitting it too ; and this perhaps she
would actually have done, had not Tremaine ga-
thered courage to seat himself close by her ; and
seizing her hand with that one of his which was
free, began the conversation he had so long medi-
tated.
“ My dearest Georgina,” said he, u suffer me so
to call you, even though it may be for the last time.
(a) The whole passage is curious, and exhibits Buffon in the midst
of the gravest researches, the merest petit marquis on the pave of
Paris that ever talked love at the Opera. “ Qu’est ce en effet que
“ le moral de 1’ amour ? la vanite ; vanite dans le plaisir de la con-
“ qu£te, erreur qui vient de ce qu’on en fait trop de cas ; van^e
“ dans le desir de la conserver exclusivement, etat malheureux
“ qu’accompagne toujours la jalousie, petite passion, si basse qu’on
“ voudroit la cacher; vanite dans la maniere d’en jouir, qui fait
“ qu’on ne multiplie que ses gestes ou ses efforts, sans multiplier
“ ses plaisirs ; vanite dans la fa 9 on m£me de la perdre : on veut
“ rompre le premier ; car si l’on est quitte, quelle humiliation ! et
“ cette humiliation se tourne en desespoir, lorsqu’on vient h recon~
“ noitre qu’on a ete long terns dupe et trompe.”
382 TREMAINE.
Would to God I might add to it, my own Geor-
gina!”
Georgina left her passive hand in his.
66 Your excellent father has, I believe, related to
you the conversation I had with him in that eventful
morning of yesterday.”
u It was indeed eventful,” said Georgina, looking
at his wounded hand ; w and you must have thought
me shamefully ungrateful, not even yet to have en-
quired after the hand that so kindly saved me.”
<e Alas !” answered Tremaine, 66 I thought not of
that when I called the morning eventful : I w as more
selfish. I referred to what was of far more conse-
quence than this trifling accident — I alluded to my
heart’s best secret ; which, however conscious of it,
I believe nothing would have torn from me, but the
fear (groundless as it has turned out) of a younger
and more suitable competitor for Miss Evelyn’s fa-
vour : for, believe me, I thought that favour a trea-
sure far too rich for me — Indeed, it is the dearest
treasure under heaven.”
Georgina felt these words in her very heart, over
wdiich they shed a sweetness that was delicious, spite
of all the disappointment wdiich she feared might
await her. It was perhaps this very sweetness that
deprived her of the ability either of answering or of
withdrawing the hand, which still remained in the
possession of Tremaine : resting the other, therefore,
on the back of her chair, she leaned her cheek upon
it, and covered her eyes with its pretty fingers.
TREMAINE. 38 3
She thus seemed all ear, and waited for him to
go on.
ee It is most true,” continued he, u that when I sur-
veyed your lovely beauty, joined to a goodness and
good sense, an innocency as well as elegance of mind
such as I never saw equalled, I thought you would
be tlie last best gift of heaven to him who might
eventually gain you. To win, to obtain so invalua-
ble a blessing, was the difficulty ; and when I consi-
dered myself— I despaired.”
He paused ; and Georgina could answer nothing
with her lips : but a slight, involuntary, and momen-
tary, but still perceptible return to the pressure of
his hand, seemed to ask him why he despaired.
u In many things,” pursued he, “ I thought we
were alike — in many I wished, and in some I hoped
we might be so. You opened my eyes, even more
than your father, to my defects ; and my days, from
having been a burthen to me, ran on with a sweet-
ness, a lightness, such as I never knew till I knew
you.”
Georgina was more and more penetrated.
66 My proximity to you,” continued he, (( on all
occasions, left me no doubt to what this was owing ;
and my heart daily and momentarily felt that you
alone were the cause of it.”
Georgina whispered rather than said, he was a
great deal too good; but, affected by all this avowal
of his admiration and his tenderness, a tear trickled
through the fingers that still covered her eyes, which,
384
TREMAINE.
devouring her as he did with his, he could not fail
to perceive.
His heart dilated with joy ; and a delicious hope,
which can be imagined only by those who have felt
it, seemed to take possession of him, spite of all
Evelyn’s prognostics.
u Yes,” continued he, “ I could have no doubt
who and what was the sweet anodyne to the canker
which consumed me — out of humour with myself,
'with mankind, and particularly I fear with woman-
kind, until my sweet and lovely neighbour redeemed
the whole sex, by convincing me I was wrong.
How deeply (suspecting no danger or disappoint-
ment where I knew not at first that I had presumed
to form a hope) how deeply did I drink of this com-
fort, till my senses were overcome ; and I have waked
only to greater and more lasting misery than before.”
a Oh! Mr. Tremaine,” said Georgina, now find-
ing her voice, “ why all this ? — what can your mean-
ing be ?”
She stopt ; and he instantly replied, u My mean-
ing is, Georgina, that I cannot be the coxcomb to
presume, that with such disparity of years between
us, the friend and school companion of your father,
I could ever obtain more than your esteem. To in-
spire you with those sentiments, that warmth and
eagerness of affection, which yet I should be fool
enough to look for in the person I sought for my
heart’s companion — to do this, I should despair.”
“ Oh ! if that were all !” exclaimed Georgina,
TREMAINE. 3 85
while a stifled sigh, amounting even to sobbing, pre-
vented her from going on.
“In my turn, my dear Georgina,” said Tremaine,
44 let me ask what can your meaning be ?”
44 Alas !” answered Georgina, gathering strength
and fortitude to proceed with her purpose, 44 how
little would the disparity you talk of be, in my eyes,
if there were no other cruel disagreement between
us!”
44 I will not affect to misunderstand you,” replied
Tremaine, 44 for I have gathered all from your fa-
ther ; but tell me, sweet girl, is it possible I have
heard aright, and from your own lips — is it possible,
(I beseech you to bless me again with the assurance,
if true,) is it possible that I could really aspire to
your love, were all these disagreements, which you
call so cruel, removed?”
Georgina immediately became again abashed, and
returning to her former position, only covering her
face still more with her hand, she asked, in a hesi-
tating subdued voice,
44 Does my present behaviour shew that Mr. Tre-
maine’s attentions can be unwelcome to me?”
Tremaine’s whole frame became at these words
inflated with a joy which his life had never
known. He raised her hand to his lips, and was
very near throwing himself at her feet, when he
exclaimed,
44 Then all my soul has desired is accomplished,
for all other difficulties are as nothing.”
VOL. II. s
386
TREMAINE.
“ Stop,” said Georgina, assuming all her deci-
sion, and disengaging herself from his arms ; c; we
must not go on thus. Would to heaven the diffi-
culties you speak of were really nothing ! But my
father has told you, and I confirm every word he
has said, that if the tenderness you have avowed to
me were even more dear to me than I own it is, it
would be impossible to gratify your wishes, or my
own, while you think of the most sacred, most awful
things, as I fear you do.”
“What,” asked Tremaine, mournfully, u has your
father represented of my opinions?”
u Alas ! I fear he is too accurate to have misun-
derstood, and is too just to misrepresent them : and
we lament, if I may presume to join myself with him
on such an occasion, what he calls the ruin of a
mind as to sacred things, too noble, in every thing
else, not to inspire every one with the sincerest es-
teem.”
“ Has he then related no particulars?”
u Oh! yes! but I beseech you, spare the sorrowful
account. To think that you own no providence, no
care of the Almighty here, and still less hereafter,
fills me with terror, only to be equalled by the grief
of thinking that it is you who do this.”
Her agitation, from mingled sorrow and tender-
ness, here became extreme.
Tremaine was infinitely moved ; his love was only
more and more excited, and had he not been pro-
bity itself, he was ready to have fallen at her feet,
TREMAINE. 387
and confessed himself, as to religion, of any creed she
would be pleased to prescribe.
But he was probity itself, and so wholly the re-
verse of hypocrisy, that to have gained the world’s
treasure, in this love-inspiring girl, he would not
have assumed it for a moment.
u Oh ! sweet and admirable girl,” he exclaimed,
u sweet as thy youth, and admirable as thy beauty,
how shall I answer you so as to appease your distress,
and yet preserve my own character with you for the
honour you allow me ? How can I shew you the
frankness you deserve, when by doing so I probably
destroy my hope of you for ever ? Have you really
considered this matter ? is your resolution fixed ; is
it the spontaneous act of your deliberate mind ? or
is it your father’s counsel that swqgs you, not your
own ?”
i( Oh my own, my own,” replied Georgina — u for
were it even possible, (which it is not,) for my father
to have counselled me differently, such is my horror,
— oh ! excuse me such a word — alas ! that ever I
should apply it to one who ” her emotions
prevented her from finishing.
u Am I then an object of horror to you, Geor-
gina?”
<c The Almighty knows my wretchedness in using
the word,” returned Georgina : “ I would say rather
my terror, my grief — but whatever it be, it is so
strong, lest the guide of my mind, as well as the
s 2 *
TREMAINE.
S8S
master of my heart, should lead me into such errors,
that were my affection fixed beyond all power to
move it, I should dread, and would refuse to gratify
it!”
u Noble girl !” cried Tremaine ; u but surely rea-
sonable as noble, and if so, will you not hear me ?”
u Oh ! gladly, yes ! if you will confess we are mis-
taken.”
Tremaine was severely pushed, in his turn. His
heart’s best hope hung on the answer he might chuse
to give to this one question. But his truth prevailed.
Recovering therefore from the struggle, he contented
himself with saying, u of this we will talk farther :
at present I only wish to observe upon your fear
that I should lead you into such errors. Whatever
my opinions, (and I really know not that I have been
correctly represented,) think not I would attempt to
mislead you, or lead you at all. If therefore the
most perfect freedom in your sentiments, uninflu-
enced by me ; if the most solemn promise to abstain
from even the assertion of my own in your presence *,
in short, a sacred compact that the very subject shall
not even be mentioned between us ; if this can en-
sure your peace, and deliver you from your fears, by
the honour you are so kind as to ascribe to me, I
sw'ear to adhere to such a promise in all the ampli-
tude you can possibly prescribe. One exception
indeed I possibly might ask of my Georgina,
and that is, that I might be myself her pupil, until
her innocent nature had so purified mine, as at least
TREMAINE.
389
to leave no hindrance from prejudice to my arriving
at truth — Lastly, should I .really be thus blest, and
should our union increase the number of those inte-
rested, I would leave them all to the direction and
tutorage of him in whom my Georgina would most
confide — that excellent and pious man from whom
she herself derives her principles, as her birth.”
A proposal so congenial to her every feeling, so
agreeable to her wishes, so soothing to her fears, so
flattering to her hopes, so encouraging to all her
prepossessions, made the most vivid and visible im-
pression upon her firmness. It staggered much of
her resolution, and had well nigh overpowered her
whole purpose at once. Nor would perhaps the
most virtuous, the most pious have blamed, or at
least refused to have excused her, had she yielded
to terms so delightful to her heart,
“ Oh ! Mr. Tremaine,” she replied, in a hesitating,
irresolute, but at the same time the softest voice in
the world, u do not thus use your power over the heart
whose secret you have surprised. Tempt not, I im-
plore you, the affection I have owned, and never
will deny. Rather assert the generosity that belongs
to you, that distinguishes you I should say from all
other men whatever, and assist a poor weak creature,
struggling to do what is right ; — assist her against
herself!”
“ Ah ! dearest Georgina,” replied Tremaine,
u what an appeal do you make ! and how could I
withstand it, if really there were any thing wrong or
s 3
390
TREMAINE.
unreasonable in my proposal ? But why shock me
by the supposition that I would tempt that purest of
hearts to any thing against itself? Why imagine
that I, who would lay down my life to preserve any
one of your principles, on which your honour or
happiness depended, would for a selfish purpose, seek
to seduce those principles, or weaken the resolution
that guarded them ? Be more just to the man whom
you have so exalted by your dear, your delicious
confession.”
u Oh ! talk not to me thus,” answered Georgina.
— “ You task my weakness to withstand what you
know to be your strength, and which nothing but
heaven, in whose cause I feel I am a sacrifice, can
enable me to resist, — if indeed I can resist it !”
Tremaine saw all his advantage elicited by the
frankness of this speech, and to his eternal honour let
it be recorded, that he did not push it in the moment
when perhaps the victory would have been his.
Reflecting an instant, he took her hand once
more, and with the elevation that was at times
peculiar to him, and at the same time a calmness
proceeding from the sincerity of his purpose, “ my
soft, yet noble girl,” said he, u no appeal of this
sort could ever be made' to me in vain, even if I were
not, as I am, penetrated with gratitude for your
kindness, and admiration at the honesty which has
disdained to conceal it. Let me not therefore en-
deavour to push you when off your guard, or surprise
you into promises which your reason may hereafter
TREMAINE.
39 i
repent. To avoid all this, and remove indeed from
myself a temptation I cannot withstand, allow me to
propose a reference of my offer to your father. In
his hands even the dear prejudices of your heart
in my favour will surely be safe, and should he
decide for me, you cannot have a fear.”
Georgina was penetrated to her heart at this
honourable conduct. She looked at Tremaine with
a confidence she had never ventured upon before.
Her eyes fixed themselves upon him with an ex-
pression of affection indeed, but so mingled with
respect, that it amounted to little short of venera-
tion. It is very certain that the world did not
seem to her (with all his errors) ever to have
contained a being like the person who then stood
before her.
She could only ejaculate that he was the most
generous of friends, and that she accepted the pro-
posal. Nor could she deny herself to the fond em-
brace on which he now for the first time ventured ;
a ratification, as he hoped, of a compact which
would render them all in all to each other.
392
TREMAINE.
CHAP. XLV.
NOT PERHAPS EXPECTED.
“ Never shall you lie by Portia’s side
“ With an unquiet soul.”
SHAKSPEARE.
If tliis were a work of fiction, (which I hav6 often
ninted it is not,) and I had power over events so as
to make what facts I pleased, I should certainly here
be for obeying the rules of poetical justice, and re-
warding Mr. Tremaine and his lovely mistress, by
making them one. I should only have to lay his
proposal before the Doctor, who I think might fairly
enough accede to it ; and there would then want
little to close the story, and the reader’s fatigue at
once.
But this the truth forbids ; for a far different fate
awaited Tremaine, than perhaps it may be thought
his generosity deserved. He was in fact not permit-
ted even to make the experiment he had offered.
Agitated and unnerved beyond every thing she
had before experienced in her life, Georgina broke
from his arms, yet with a softness which only made
her ten thousand times more his than ever. She en-
treated for time and opportunity to compose herself.
(( It will do me good,” said she, <c to be alone for
TREMAINE.
393
a little while, to recall my scattered senses, which I
seem to have lost. Heaven knows, I little thought
to have seen this hour. It has been a bitter one to
me.”
“ It has been bitter,” said Tremaine, £c and yet
there have been things in it that have made it the
sweetest of my life. May I not hope that this senti-
ment is in some degree participated by my adored
friend?”
The words were gratifying to Georgina, yet she
gave a deep sigh, and loosening her hand from his,
and repeating that what she had confessed she never
would deny, she said it was absolutely necessary for
her to be alone.
u Here,” added she, u I am really too much in the
power of my feelings.”
Tremaine, respecting her as usual, told her she
could not express a wish that was not a command
to him ; and raising her hand to his lips, which she
shewed no disposition to oppose, he allowed her to
retire.
In point of fact, he had himself almost the same
necessity for solitude, if not to recover himself, at
least to deliberate what course to pursue. His first
purpose, which was to seek his friend, and lay his
proposal before him, he checked. It is impossible
for him to agree to it, thought he, and then what
becomes of this situation, which, with all its uncer-
tainties, so delights me, that my senses are giddy
with the thought of it !
s 5
394
TREMAINE.
In truth, strange as it may appear, though nothing
was less determinate than his prospect, there was no
moment of his life that had ever appeared so deli-
cious to him. Such is always the effect, when we
love, of the first avowal that our love is returned.
Dreading to lose it, Tremaine became absolutely
afraid to meet the friend whom he at first so reso-
lutely intended to seek. He Was but a few paces
off, for Tremaine had seen him loitering within call,
during his conference with Georgina ; yet his heart
sank, when his mind inclined him to join Evelyn in
the garden. Longing therefore to be alone, to hug
himself as it were in the thought that he was be-
loved by her, whom alone of all the world he thought
worth loving, and wishing besides for time to ex-
amine himself more closely than he had ever yet
done, in order to see whether he could not really in
some degree approach the wishes of the adored of
his heart, — he fairly shrank for the moment from
his purpose, and ordering his horses to follow him,
took the road on foot to his own park.
As he passed up the avenue that led from the
house, he could not help turning to take a view of
what was now so much dearer than ever to him.
Georgina’s chamber was in that front, and at the
window at that moment, reclining with her head on
her hand, and showing the whitest, and most grace-
ful arm in the world — he beheld Georgina herself.
Their surprise was mutually great at seeing each
other again. Georgina’s in particular; and he could
TREMAINE.
395
not help returning, if only to apprise her of his inten-
tion to pass an hour or two at home, after which he
would have the honour of waiting upon her again.
She bowed and kissed her hand, with the grace that
always so enchanted him, and while he lingered in
sight, at least as long as it was necessary, often did
he turn to give and receive greetings, the proofs
of the mutual understanding which now informed
them.
But alas ! for Tremaine, it is needless to recount
the occupation that engaged him, or the trains of
thought into which he fell, the plans he revolved, or
the agitations he underwent during the four hours
immediately after hrs return home. His loiterings on
the way, his seclusions afterwards in the closest walks
of his gardens and shrubberies, and a long long letter
to Evelyn, the result of his meditation, all this, as it
would probably not have brought him nearer to his
purpose, so in effect it was rendered abortive before
the experiment could be tried, by a packet which was
now delivered to him. The packet came from Eve-
lyn, and enclosed a letter from Georgina, in addition
to his own.
Evelyn’s was very short, though very kind. It told
him that Georgina had herself rendered the generous
proposal of which she had apprised him abortive, by
a resolution she had taken even previous to her
communicating it to him, and had begged him to
transmit it in the letter he enclosed. It concluded
with an expression of admiration of his honourable
396
TREMAINE.
conduct, and a fond wish that his principles might
yet change — change however from conviction, with-
out which, he agreed with Georgina in deprecating
for a time their future intercourse.
Good God ! what was the situation of Tremaine
on reading these indistinct allusions, indistinct, yet
seemingly of so decisive a kind. Georgina’s packet
was seized in a sort of despair, and his hand trembled
as if palsied, while it broke the seal, and he read as
follows :
cc To the most generous and noble of men,
“ Such has my heart long thought you, and never
so much as in this cruel moment, when the most
painful sense of duty forces me to forego all that
that heart can wish or value.
“ If there is indecorum, or impropriety of any kind
in confessing this, surely it may be forgiven after
what has so recently passed, and as a poor poor relief
to the sorrow which dictates what I am about to
write — if I can write. The secret of my inmost bo-
som you are possessed of ; nor scarcely do I regret
that it has been unveiled. I will never retract it, never
disguise the effect which accomplishments, good-
ness, and delicate kindness, kindness such as I never
before knew, have had upon the friend you have been
pleased to distinguish. Ah ! that you had not been
so generous, that you were less candid, less good,
less noble, how much of this bitterness would then
be spared me ! How comparatively easy the struggle
TREMAINE.
397
that seems to burst a heart, which feels (alas ! that I
should use such language,) that it cannot be your’s
and God’s at the same time.
“ Oh ! that your mind, so admirable in all ho-
nourable principle, so alive to tenderness, and all
that a woman can love, would open to religious
truth ! — That it will, that it must, is my persuasion,
my conviction as well as my wish. But till it does
so, forgive a poor struggling girl, (who is miserable
in either alternative,) if she has acquired force of
mind enough to sacrifice her fondest, softest wishes,
to what she conceives, nay is sure is her duty.
“ Oh ! Mr. Tremaine, think not this resolve has
been made without effort, without even pain and sor-
row, which on my knees 1 have prayed fervently of
that God to whom I have made this sacrifice, may
be spared to you, I who alone am doomed to afflict
you, ought alone to be the sufferer — and ah ! believe
that I do suffer. The tears which flow while I write
heaven will I hope forgive, though the feeling that
prompts them seems to rebel against that heaven
while they do flow. I trust that strength will be
given me to control the weakness, (shall I call it so?)
that makes me falter. Yet if you should mistake or
misjudge me ; if the man who I have confessed is the
master of my heart, and who has given me the rich
gift of his own, should suppose that I am capricious
or unsettled in my knowledge of myself— that my
affection is lightly won, or easily parted with — sacri-
ficed in short to any thing but my God — dearly and
398
TREMAINE.
terribly will my misery be enhanced. — But Mr. Tre-
maine is too just to do this. It is my wretchedness
to think that he cannot perhaps appreciate the extent
and urgency of the duty which governs me, even to
the seeming extinction of my happiness. But he
will at least allow for my principles; he will think
me a sincere, and not look down upon me as a wa-
vering, woman.
66 Hear then the result of my pure, my sacred, and
as far as human influence is concerned, my unas-
sisted resolve.
u Loving, reverencing, and fearing God as I do,
adoring him in his providence, and humbling myself
before him with trembling resignation, it revolts me
to think that he who could absorb my earthly love,
my fondest attachment, my whole reverence and es-
teem, should think little of all these sacred feelings ;
— that he should disparage my mind’s most ardent
devotion ; should not only not participate, but by his
conduct seem to resist all that my soul holds most
awful and dear ; — all this terrifies me even at this
distance to think of. What would it do if the
thought were daily and hourly worked up into every
act of my future life ? What would be the effect of
this vital difference practically shewing itself^ where
all ought to be union without alloy.
u Forgive me, oh! forgive me, if I feel sure that
it could not come to good ; that to you I could not
be your Georgina, the Georgina you have fancied ;
and that to me you could not be that unerring, that
TREMAINE.
399
infallible guide, to whom I would on all occasions
commit my spirit to be directed, c As from my Lord,
my Governor, and King.’
M ’Tis true you made an offer that penetrated my
heart, and shook my resolution, — nay overcame it ;
but how T , and in what moment? Ah! let your
own heart answer, and say what place there then
was for reason or resolution, when the sudden sur-
prise of tenderness displaying itself for the first time
— no, I am sure this will not be fixed upon me,
by the most generous of men, to my disadvantage.
The prayers I afterwards poured out to the Ruler
of all things were heard ; and God has given me
strength to address you as I ought. It is he, and
not I, that tells you your proposal, generous as it is,
would of necessity be abortive — that my unhappi-
ness at your doubts would not be the less, because
they were concealed, and that you would not the less
lament my supposed weakness, because you had
kindly consented, as you thought, never to probe
it. It is the voice of God, and not mine, that tells
you this.
u How weak mine alone would be, my throbbing
heart indeed too fatally convinces me. Listen then
to this powerful voice, that implores you for your
own sake, to seek him with fervour and sincerity;
seek, and you shall find him ; and when you haze
found him, need I say that you have found me. But
till then, though shattered, unnerved, torn with con-
tending emotions, and weighed to the ground with
-400
TREMAINE.
distress, my way is yet clear before me, pointed cut
by Heaven itself; nor dare I swerve from it. Alas!
that I should have to say it leads me from you. I
can scarcely write the words ; my kind father will
tell you the rest, and it is my weakness, (throwing
itself upon you for support,) that bids me add the
necessity there is, until a happier time shall dawn,
that we should meet no more.”
It will not be easy to describe the thousand con-
tending feelings that agitated Tremaine, nay tore
him to pieces, while reading this letter. It was long
before he could be said to understand the meaning
of the words, which yet he read over a fourth and a
fifth time, before he gave himself breath to ask what
it was that had been addressed to him ; for he could
scarcely comprehend what it was he was called upon
to do, to say, or to unsay, — in short, how to act to-
wards Georgina, her father, or himself.
Shall we say that he was piqued ; that the
hectic of a moment Yes ! for his natural
irritability did for that moment flash across his cheek,
and he was piqued even with his adored Georgina.
Alas ! how soon to lose the little courage it gave him !
how soon to sink lower and lower in all the bitterness
and grief of disappointment ! How did he even
execrate himself for having, for that scarcely percepti-
ble moment, thought (for it vanished before he could
give it utterance) that Georgina had wavered, had
been weak, had been unjust ! Too soon indeed was
he deprived of this cruel consolation, in order to
TREMAINE.
401
plunge into all the despair of increased love and
admiration, increased an hundred fold by the forti-
tude she had displayed.
Yet so near the fruition of all his hopes! To have
had all his fears, his jealousies of himself and others
so completely allayed! To have been told things by
herself that quieted all his alarms, and breathed
sweetness into his very soul, seemingly for ever
yet to be deprived of all this, as soon as told !
It must be owned it required a self-possession
more than human to receive such tidings with equa-
nimity.
It far surpassed Tremaine’s, and having recovered
from the sort of stupefaction into which he first fell,
and afterwards from that quick throb of pride which
has been mentioned, and which lasted for six or at
most ten pulses, misery and agitation, and wonder,
hesitation and irresolute purpose, yet mixed, if I
may so say, with resolute despair, all got possession
of him, and all left him by turns. The only thing
certain and permanent about him was his misery.
And now, reader, shall we close this account,
and leave the rest to conjecture ? Willingly would
we do so, rather than have to record the unhappiness,
nay, the wretchedness, of the excellent Georgina.
It must however be recorded, for it involved her
in a struggle which day after day, and week after
week, consumed her, till it proved to be beyond her
strength, and ended at length in a decline of health
w hich sank the good Evelyn as well as herself to the
brink of the grave.
402
TREMAINE.
It is certain that the abandonment of Woodington,
(for it was abandoned) by its owner, left a blank in
Evelyn Hall, which nothing could till up. Its
occupations, useful and innocent, and therefore happy ;
its comforts, it cheerfulness, and even its hospitalities,
seemed to have left it for ever ; and many a time has
honest Jack been known to stop his horse as he rode
across the avenue, and shaking his head, observe?
while a tear unchecked would course down his cheek,
that the chimnies did not smoke as they used to do.
The poor indeed came as usual, and as usual never
were turned away ; but the cottagers no longer ran
out to their little gates in the eagerness of joy, to
welcome dear Miss Georgy, and tell her how pure
rosy she looked ; to hope she was better, and that
the fever had left her, and then return to theif
wheels or chimney-corners, with blank looks and
sighing hearts, was now the sad termination' of
interviews once so exhilarating.
As to Evelyn, bowed to the earth, and nearly
broken-hearted, his resignation only kept him from
sinking quite. And who shall describe the look with
which he sometimes contemplated the fading face he
so much loved, or the agony with which, in his closet,
or his solitary walk, he commended his amiable
daughter to the protection of her God.
END OF VOL. II.
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